


A Conversation in Poetry

by laurenwrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurenwrites/pseuds/laurenwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is a student working part-time in a local library when he begins to receive poetry from an anonymous student named 'R'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm talkofrevolution on Tumblr, for anyone wanting to know. I generally post updates over there first, and you'll probably see me asking for prompts or opinions on certain ideas.

Wednesdays never made sense to Enjolras. For a day directly in the middle of the week, they always seemed too far from both the beginning and the end. Wednesdays were uncertainty – somewhere in the middle of the start and the end; unpredictable. Enjolras did however, like one thing about this day, and that was the promise of another message from the elusive ‘R’.

It had been exactly three weeks since ‘R’ had sent the first poem, _Hymn to Apollo_ by John Keats. It had appeared on Enjolras’ desk seemingly out of nowhere, with a simple yellow sticky note attached. _‘For my Apollo – R’._ Enjolras had laughed it off; this person was clearly joking. Having been the subject of many pranks, thanks to his lovely group of friends, Enjolras had first assumed that it had been one of them. After all, Jehan was known for his love of poetry and Courfeyrac had been the head of countless other gags. However, when Enjolras had confronted them they knew absolutely nothing about it.

Jehan had been the one to suggest replying, and more out of curiosity than anything else, Enjolras agreed. That day he’d pinned a message to the noticeboard of the library in which he worked part-time. It read _‘Keats was always overrated in my opinion. I always found his description of Apollo repetitive if not presumptuous. As for your flattery, I’m not sure Apollo is a fitting guise for any mere mortal – E’._

After a week had passed, he’d assumed that ‘R’ had either been offended by the message or had simply lost interest. To be honest, Enjolras was relieved. He’d never been particularly good with matters of the heart, much less someone else’s.  Enjolras had read and reread the poem countless times; trying to look for something – anything – that would give him a clue to the sender’s identity, but he didn’t even know what he was looking for. The sender must be relatively intelligent to be spending his spare time reading Keats, and yet there was something almost juvenile about using another’s words to get across a message. Quite frankly, the mysterious ‘R’ was driving him insane.

That week he’d received a poem by Poe:

 _‘Thou wouldst be loved? - Then let thy heart_  
From its present pathway part not!  
Being everything which now thou art,  
Be nothing which thou art not.  
So with the world thy gentle ways,  
Thy grace, thy more than beauty,  
Shall be an endless theme of praise,  
And love - a simple duty.’

Underneath the poem was another note. ‘ _You’re not understanding me, Apollo._ _You’re more than an enigma – R’._

To someone who had always thought aloud, always been truthful, being called an enigma was vaguely unsettling. The message of the poem was clear: let yourself be loved. The truth was, Enjolras had always had a hard time letting anyone in and people had to earn his trust. Was there really anything wrong with that? The sender obviously knew him well, but what did he really know about ‘R’ himself? Being a Poe fan himself, Enjolras liked to think they had something in common in the very least. 

He imagined a quiet, English Literature student – someone who easily disappeared into the background. But somehow this didn’t quite fit. There was something awfully dramatic about using poetry as a method of communication that didn’t seem particularly shy or wallflower-like at all. Enjolras was both perplexed and enthralled by the anonymous figure in his life.

He decided to respond with a poem – if he had to work out the message, then why shouldn’t ‘R’? It only seemed fair for them to be equally as clueless. Enjolras chose a stanza from _The Fly_ by William Blake. He wanted to ask ‘R’ who he was, if he considered himself an equal to Enjolras. He wanted to know why ‘R’ held him in such high esteem and why he knew him so well. Enjolras realised that the tiny verse left much unspoken, but he hoped for an understanding.

_‘Am not I_   
_A fly like thee?_   
_Or art not thou_   
_A man like me?’_

Again, he attached a small note to the poem: _‘I have my reasons; surely you don’t claim to know those too? You’re the enigma, my friend – E’._ Enjolras thought about writing the note out again, without the addition of _‘my friend’_ but he was nothing but truthful and he really did consider ‘R’ a friend. Enjolras wanted – needed – to know this person who clearly cared enough to find new poems every week to send to him. His friends teased him about his ‘secret admirer’ but Enjolras had never been prone to petty quips, he was just curious and more than flattered than anyone considered him worth their time. He found his correspondence with ‘R’ refreshing in a world full of thoughtless and almost unfeeling clones. Of course, he never said it aloud, but Wednesdays were fast becoming his favourite day of the week.


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras spent the next few days rereading the past poems and notes that ‘R’ had sent; in fact he could probably recite ‘Hymn to Apollo’ in his sleep. It was around this time when Enjolras decided that a fresh set of eyes and a cup of coffee would probably do him good, but then again he’d never been the best at actually _asking_ for help.

By the time he’d been able to put aside his pride and ask his friends about ‘R’, it was Wednesday again.  He walked into the library with a new sense of purpose, almost allowing himself to imagine that he’d see ‘R’ slipping the next piece of the puzzle onto his desk; he needed to know the face behind the quotes like he needed a cause to believe in.  Of course, he was wrong – the poem was safely lying on his workspace by the time of his arrival, a thin layer of dust disturbed by the sender.

Reading the poem before the note, Enjolras fought the urge to slam his fist into the nearest table in frustration. Anyone watching him might have thought he was having a stroke as his face currently rested somewhere between a smile and a frown; an equal balance of amusement and annoyance.

_‘I’m Nobody! Who are you?_

_Are you – Nobody – too?_

_Then there’s a pair of us!_

_Don’t tell! They’d advertise – you know!_

_  
How dreary – to be – Somebody!_

_How public – like a Frog –_

_To tell one’s name – the livelong June –_

_To an admiring Bog!’_

Emily Dickinson had always had a strange effect on him. He couldn’t quite work out if he loved her work or hated it, and he silently cursed ‘R’ for selecting something so obviously witty and perfect. He’d have a hard time finding anything remotely fitting to use in reply. He unfolded the note, this time written on a small scrap of lined paper. ‘ _You don’t see yourself clearly at all, do you? You’re going to have to do better than that, Apollo. As for the small matter of my identity, I hope this clears a few things up – R’._

After having a small mental melt-down, Enjolras decided to really look at the poem. Clearly, ‘R’ had a good sense of humour, but he seemed strangely self-deprecating. Usually, Enjolras would find this uncomfortable but it was actually rather endearing. If he was right, ‘R’ was saying that it was a luxury to be unknown, but why? What did he have to hide? Why would anyone fear being somebody? With every answer came another question. Enjolras imagined the questions physically piling up inside his own mind; a filing system gone wrong. He couldn’t separate ‘R’ from Dickinson. He couldn’t quite work out what ‘R’ wanted him to take away from this and what he himself was creating internally.

Exactly four hours later, Enjolras sat in _Le Cafe Musain_ awaiting the arrival of the last few members of Les Amis de l’ABC, a group of students dedicated to political change. Enjolras usually led the meetings with ease, completely enthralled and unwavering in his speech, but tonight he was noticeably off. He couldn’t quite find the right words to get his points across, and his mind kept repeating various phrases from _I’m Nobody, Who Are You?_ like a catchy song. It was distracting. His head ached in the effort of trying to expel the words from his mind, and eventually people started to notice the obvious strain on their leader.

Under protest, Enjolras ended the meeting early, asking a few of his closest and most valued friends to stay behind. With a much-needed cup of coffee in one hand, and a bundle of notes and poems in the other, Enjolras told Eponine, Courfeyrac, Combeferre and Jehan of his situation. Of course, they’d already heard of the mysterious ‘R’, but they’d never actually read anything past the first message. Enjolras waited as they read, passing each correspondence around until everything had been seen.

‘Enjy, this is the most romantic thing I have ever seen!’ Jehan beamed and practically launched himself at Enjolras, throwing his arms around his neck. Enjolras patted his back awkwardly, unused to so much affection without real cause. He cleared his throat, masking his blush with a forced laugh.

‘I’m not sure about that, I’m just curious as to who this person is and I really - _’_

‘Actually, for once I agree with him. This guy has it bad, you can’t even deny it!’ Courfeyrac interjected, grinning as he elbowed Enjolras in the chest. ‘The question is, how do we go about finding this person when he obviously doesn’t want to be found?’

‘Well, clearly ‘R’ must be in the library every Wednesday to get these to Enjolras. We need to scope out the place – stay overnight to make sure we catch him.’ Eponine answered, directing her gaze toward Enjolras, almost asking permission.  ‘But I don’t know, maybe you’re better off not knowing?’

Enjolras looked down at his coffee cup, swirling the mixture until the froth had all but disappeared before his eyes. In all the excitement of the past few weeks, he’d never really entertained the idea of not meeting ‘R’, but maybe Eponine had a point. Maybe he should take into account the feelings of his anonymous friend who quite clearly wished to remain just that – unnamed. Enjolras didn’t even know who he was, much less if he could ever return the abstract feelings that ‘R’ claimed to have for him. To be quite honest, Enjolras couldn’t understand the idea of loving someone on face value, so much could be hidden behind a smile or a glance. It seemed almost dangerous and reckless. Then again, maybe he knew a lot more about ‘R’ than he’d originally thought.

‘I need to take some time to think about this.’ Enjolras paused, running a single hand through his unruly hair as he looked up towards his friends.

Jehan was practically bouncing up and down in his chair, imploring Enjolras to find his ‘soul mate’, whilst Eponine rolled her eyes sarcastically as she attempted to console him with a pat on the shoulder.

‘I don’t say this very often, but you think too much.’ Combeferre smiled encouragingly at Enjolras, enjoying the fact that he’d asked for their help. It was a rare occasion, and he was going to give the best advice he possibly could muster. ‘You’re always so damn concentrated on one thing or another, if it’s not the group, it’s coursework or your job – take some time to live a little.’

Enjolras nodded, genuinely surprised at the weight of his friend’s words. They stayed with him as he chose his next reply to ‘R’ that night. He selected another of Dickinson’s poems, finding it the perfect response to an obvious cynic.

 _‘I dwell in Possibility —_  
 _  
A fairer House than Prose —_  
 _  
More numerous of Windows —_  
 _  
Superior — for Doors —_  
  
 _  
Of Chambers as the Cedars —_  
 _  
Impregnable of Eye —_  
 _  
And for an Everlasting Roof_  
 _  
The Gambrels of the Sky —_  
  
 _  
Of Visitors — the fairest —_  
 _  
For Occupation — This —_  
 _  
The spreading wide my narrow Hands_  
  
To gather Paradise —’

Enjolras thought a great deal about the right note to attach to his message before realising that it was literally right in front of him.

_‘How’s this for ‘better’? I hope you’re prepared for **every** possibility – E’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be 1:20am, but after more than three hours of procrastinating and a mild case of ‘writer’s block’, I finally seem to have finished part two. Again, I haven’t read this through so please excuse any mistakes. Thanks to everyone taking the time to read this!


	3. Chapter 3

One day after replying had Enjolras obsessing about the not-so-subtle flirtation in his response. Two days after brought a mild panic attack over the idea of ‘R’ picking up on said flirtation but not reciprocating. Three days, a panic attack over the idea that ‘R’ _would_ reciprocate. To be quite honest, Enjolras had never experienced anything like this in his entire life. He wasn’t prone to juvenile crushes, and he certainly wasn’t one to moon over anyone without actually knowing what he was getting himself into. Out of his depth wouldn’t even start to describe how he was feeling.

Enjolras was beginning to feel annoyance toward a shadow – a being not quite physical in this world, but so very real in his own.  It was affecting his work, his thoughts and perhaps most disturbingly, _Les Amis_. Enjolras had been the founder of the group and the others jokingly called it his one and only love, his baby. To an outside eye, this could be seen as shockingly accurate but in truth, Enjolras cared about a lot of things – his friends being at the top of the list. It almost made him laugh to think about the times when people had claimed him ‘unfeeling’ or ‘cold’ because he was almost the exact opposite. He cared too much, and wished to change the world because of it. Anything outright affecting his nature had to be either unimaginably good or bitterly sinister; either way Enjolras had to know.

He had to find ‘R’.

As soon as Enjolras made the decision, he felt a sense of pure and unabridged _right_. He should never have doubted his first instinct, but in a strange way he was relieved to have the extra time to really think about the possibility of meeting his new friend. Enjolras frowned internally. ‘Friend’ didn’t quite seem like the right term to use, but for loss of a better phrase, it would have to do.

He sent out a group text to several of his friends.

_Le_ _Café _Musain_. 15 minutes. _

-          _E_

_Can I bring Cosette?_

-          _M_

_Bring your grandmother for all I care, just be there._

-          _E_

  
Enjolras groaned internally; he really did hate couples. There were just so needy, so sickly. It wasn’t that he hated love; he just hated what it did to people. Marius was almost completely unrecognisable from the awkward, lumbering freshman that he’d rather unwillingly made his friend. But despite his teasing, Enjolras really did miss the old Marius.

_Does this mean what I think it means?!_

-          _J_

_I don’t ever claim to know what you’re thinking, Jehan._

-          _E_

 

_ARE YOU OR ARE YOU NOT GOING TO FIND ‘R’?_

-          _J_

_Yes I am._

-          _E_

When his phone bleeped again, Enjolras ignored it. He assumed it would be an unintelligible keyboard-smash from Jehan, who was quite possibly more excited about all of this than he was.  He arrived at the café before the others, ordering his usual no-frills cup of coffee before taking a seat in the furthest corner of the room. The place was pretty busy even for a Sunday, and he was suddenly glad that he came ahead to reserve seats. He recognised a group of the less-involved members of _Les Amis_ sitting a few tables away and waved absentmindedly. Taking this as an invitation to join him, they raised from their seats to join him. Enjolras hid his annoyance with a smile and a hello, trying his best to be polite.

‘And what brings our fearless leader here today, might I ask?’ The question came from Joly, who always seemed happy no matter where or when he was encountered. Enjolras liked him and almost regretted that he didn’t know him a little better.

‘I’m just meeting Marius and a few of the others – nothing special’ Enjolras looked up to see his friends walking into the café; he smiled at Eponine as she waved.

‘We can leave, if you’d rather - ’

‘No! I think you’re all going to want to hear this.’ Marius laughed, taking a seat next to Enjolras as they squished into the seats that somehow seemed to be getting smaller by the minute. ‘Enjy has some ‘secret admirer’ issues that he wishes to discuss with the group. Please do tell more!’

‘Actually, I was actually thinking that it might be best if - ’

‘Oh come on, Enjolras. We’re all waiting for your High School Musical moment – go ahead! Sing about your feelings by all means!’

 _Please don’t let that be him._ Enjolras almost bashed his head against the table in frustration. Sure enough, he turned his head to find Grantaire grinning sarcastically as he pulled up a chair only to sit on it backwards. His head rested on the chair-back, strands of curled black hair falling into his eyes. _Who the hell invited him? And who in God’s name sits on a chair like that? Who does he think he is?_

Interrupted from his internal monologue by the clearing of a throat, Enjolras turned his head up in defiance, appearing to ignore the previous quip. So what if he hadn’t planned it quite like this? He was going to find ‘R’ and not a single thing could stand in his way.

‘I’m guessing you all know the reason why we’re here? I have a feeling that someone -’ Enjolras paused to look pointedly at Jehan who giggled in response, ‘may have informed more people than I had originally intended.’

A few people nodded, some merely smiled. It was enough of a response to assume that he’d been right.

‘Thank you, for that wonderful surprise.’ Enjolras said this almost to himself, voice dripping with sarcasm. He supposed he should be embarrassed, but in actual fact he was too stubborn to feel anything but sheer determination. Surely with this amount of people to help him, seeking out ‘R’ would be a lot easier than he’d thought. ‘And I don’t suppose it’s too far-fetched to assume you already have a plan?’

‘Oh, you know us so well!’ Eponine smirked as she stood to attention, Marius and Jehan standing to join her as she relayed the scheme to the rest of the group.

_Now **this** was going to be interesting. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always seem to end up updating at strange times, but here I am again at 1:20am. A special thanks to thewhiphand-woman and enjyolras on Tumblr who managed to spur me on to finish this latest part with their lovely messages.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another chapter. I don’t know what I’m going to when I go back to college on Monday because I keep writing this at strange times at night! Sleep is overrated anyway! This part took a little longer to write as I had to write a bit of poetry myself so please excuse how awful that bit is. Quite few of you have sent me the most amazing messages and I just want to thank you so much for those - they really made my life my day. I’m not going to list everyone because I’m sure you’d rather just have the damn chapter without me waffling on for the next 100 years.

Enjolras usually hated working the morning shifts in the library, but today he was more nervous than annoyed. It was exactly three am – he knew because looking at his watch had become something of an addiction in the past few hours. Sleep was a distant memory. Enjolras had always had a hard time getting a full night’s sleep, probably because his mind was so active. He found it physically painful to try and think about anything other than the plan to find ‘R’ and so seconds turned to minutes which of course turned to hours. Finally deciding to skip the sleep and drink as much coffee as humanly possible, Enjolras crawled out of his bed and into his clothes.

By the time he reached the library, he was just over an hour early than the original meeting time of five am. Having worked late last night, Enjolras had been the one to lock up and therefore had the required key to get in. There was something peaceful about the place at night. For the first time in weeks, Enjolras merely sat and observed – his mind not quite silent, but still quiet. He was suddenly glad for his inability to sleep. The hour passed quickly and he was almost disappointed that he didn’t have more time to just ‘be’.

_I feel like death. I hate you for making me get up this early._

-          _Ep_

_And whose idea was this, again?_

-          _E_

_Can’t think of witty comeback. Too early._

-          _Ep_

Enjolras snorted. He really did love his friends. In all honesty, he was pretty certain that anyone would be pressed to find a better collection of people. It almost seemed fitting for his friends to choose that moment to walk into the library. Out of habit, Enjolras went to shush them on their noisy entrance but then he realised that nobody was actually here other than them.

There were a lot more people than he’d expected. It seemed the whole sub-group of _Les Amis_ they met at the café had turned up as well as his usual group. He was flattered that they all cared enough to spend their time this way, but most surprisingly of all was the presence of Grantaire. Enjolras was under the impression that his nights were usually spend drinking liquor stores in their entirety, not helping out a colleague or an acquaintance or even a fellow human being. Then again, he was here.

‘Happy Birthday, mate – didn’t know what to get you, so I brought you an army!’ Courfeyrac joked, reaching up to ruffle his friend’s hair.

‘Actually _I_ got you the army, he just brought the alcohol.’ Eponine grinned.

‘I hope you’re joking about the alcohol as well as it being my birthday because this is a library and I’m breaking enough rules as it is.’ Enjolras paused, waiting for a clarification he never received. He sighed before continuing. ‘Everyone take a seat and we’ll begin.’

‘Jesus, Enjolras were you born with a stick up your ass? The library doesn’t officially open for another three hours, there’s plenty of time.’ Grantaire had been ominously silent until now; somehow Enjolras knew it was too good to be true. ‘You never know, you might actually – _wait for it_ – enjoy yourself!’

‘Well then, the sooner we actually go over the plan, the sooner you all get to chatter and share secrets and hair-styling tips like the group of teenage girls you obviously are.’

‘Oh Enjy, if we wanted hair tips we’d be asking you. How _do_ you manage to pull of that bed-head?’  Enjolras pursed his lips, shaking his head to hide the whisper of a smile currently gracing his face. A few muffled laughs could be heard as Grantaire took his seat and feigned innocence, asking Jehan if he’d paint his nails.

‘Now that I have everybody’s attention, I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone here today. You didn’t have to be here, and I’m very appreciative of your time.’ Enjolras paused, taking a breath as he noted the smiles and encouraging nods of his friends. ‘First of all, I’m going to need everyone groups of four or less – one group will take each corner of the library and my group will be situated just off to the left and behind the first shelf of books.’

‘Don’t you think ‘R’ might be a little suspicious if he sees a crap-load of random people watching your desk?’ Courfeyrac interjected.

‘Well, act like you’re doing something _other_ than watching my desk.’  

‘Hold on a second, I did not sign up to be a background actor in the romantic comedy of your life!’ Enjolras signed for what seemed like the thousandth time today already. Grantaire would honestly be the death of him.

Two hours passed without anything particularly disastrous occurring, and for that Enjolras was eternally grateful. The last thing he needed was to be fired from his job, even if he did find it a little too slow-paced and repetitive than he’d personally like.

As he looked around the small circle his friends had formed in the middle of the main library, Enjolras smiled. Everyone was either chatting or laughing or doing a combination of both. Combeferre and Epoinine looked particularly cosy, he noted with approval – they’d be good together.  He also noticed Grantaire sitting alone and uncharacteristically solemn, but knowing that his presence would only anger or annoy, Enjolras kept his distance. It was unsettling to see Grantaire like this; it seemed wrong – somehow unjust. Then again, it was probably the lack of alcohol that had him feeling so low.

‘How are you feeling, my lovely?’ Jehan perched on the table next to him, leaning on one arm as he smiled, hair spilling over his shoulders with a certain dramatic flair. ‘Excited, nervous - both?’

‘I’m perfectly fine.’ Enjolras tilted his head slightly, absentmindedly sweeping a hand across his brow. He was surprised to find he was telling the truth, to be honest it was a relief. He just wanted all this to be over so he could get back to his real life and above-average state of sanity.  

Another hour passed.

The library was technically open but ‘R’ was nowhere to be seen. Enjolras felt his belief wavering, but maybe he was late – that could happen, right? Although Enjolras was supposed to be working now, would he really risk running into him? His head said no, but then again who was he to predict the actions of an almost-stranger.  

Another hour passed.

‘Enjy, I know you probably don’t want to hear this but I don’t think he’s coming.’ Jehan laid a hand on his shoulder and Enjolras stifled a bitter laugh, patting his hand with a cool and calculated distance. In his mind, he was aware that this was perhaps a strange response but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

‘It was stupid. I’m sorry for wasting everyone’s time, you can all leave now.’

Enjolras walked to his desk, talking a seat on the familiar dark-oak chair. The grains of the wood reminded him of the sea, a never-ending pattern of the same water, the same waves. He wondered if anything ever really changed. He raised his head as his friends left one by one, sending a half-hearted smile to those who waved. _I’m fine. Everything is fine._ He repeated the words in his head, trying them on for size – forcing them to fit until it was clear that they just didn’t. Enjolras found it impossible to believe in something so wrong; at this moment he hated his capacity for the truth, loathed it with every fibre of his being.

‘I’m sorry.’ Enjolras raised his eyes to see Grantaire.  He almost looked worse than Enjolras felt. _Must be the lack of alcohol in his system. ‘_ You know, about what happened today. I mean to leave you waiting, that was - I guess what I’m trying to say is – I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t need your apology, I’m fine.’ The words felt as foreign in his mouth as they did in his brain. Seeing that Grantaire actually looked sincere made him feel a little guilty about his snapped response. ‘Thank you, though.’

As Grantaire left, Jehan came forward, handing him a small scrap of white paper. He clasped Enjolras’ hand as he smiled sadly.

‘I wrote this for you.’ Enjolras raised his eyebrows ‘No, I wrote this for you and ‘R’. I don’t think you should give up but I also - ’

‘Thank you.’ Enjolras rose from his seat and surprised even himself by enveloping his friend in a hug. As he stepped back, Jehan also left, leaving him alone with his thoughts once again. He unfolded the paper, reading the poem written inside.

_‘Oh! Paper prison -_   
_Words for bricks._   
_Treachery as ink_   
_And metal eyes_   
_Committed to paper,_   
_As wife to husband._   
_A Willful machine_   
_Contorting the mind._   
_Desperation is key -_   
_Said he, said me?_

_It’s not finished. Every great story has its tragedy. I happen to think there’s another verse – J’_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually managed to write this at a normal time! First of all, I just want to say thank you to everyone taking the time to read this. Again, I’m not going to list the wonderful people I’ve been speaking with because I’d hate to miss anyone out and feel guilty for the rest of my life! Second of all, don’t hit me when I say that this isn’t fluffy or cute, it was just essential for where I plan on taking the story. The next chapter is where everything ‘goes down’ so please just bear with me on that one. Happy reading!

Over the course of his shift, something occurred to Enjolras. Either someone in _Les Amis_ had unknowingly tipped off ‘R’ or – _dare he even think it?_ – ‘R’ was a member of the _Amis_ himself _._ Quite frankly, he wasn’t sure which prospect annoyed him more. On one hand, the idea of someone, however unknowingly, betraying him was a bleak thought and yet was that really as bad as ‘R’ being there, literally right in front of him the entire time? 

Enjolras didn’t know what to believe anymore, but one thing was certain: he _was_ going to find ‘R’.

As soon as he reached his small apartment, Enjolras pulled out a notepad and his favourite crimson-coloured pen. He began by listing every single person in _Les Amis –_ even those who had either grown tired of the meetings or simply couldn’t be bothered to turn up.  Enjolras was thorough, considering every person in detail as he worked down the list, either crossing out or highlighting the names according to his thoughts. He grinned to himself when he came to Eponine and Courfeyrac; even the thought of his two best friends picking out any of those poems and seriously sending them to him was actually pretty hilarious. Besides, Eponine was the ‘stare longingly and do nothing’ type and Courfeyrac was _definitely_ straight. He was glad for the laugh as he crossed out both of their names.

When he came to Jehan, he almost considered the poet a candidate for ‘R’ but as soon as the thought entered his head he tossed it out again. The stunt may have Jehan’s dramatic flair, but Enjolras knew him well – there was no absolutely no way Jehan could keep his love for _anyone_ a secret. He’d tell the world before he was satisfied, and anyway, he would use his own words rather than those of another. Enjolras used his pen to strike out his name.

He slowly carried on down the list until he reached Combeferre’s name.  Enjolras hated himself for considering it, but maybe it was him. He’d been awfully supportive of ‘R’ when Enjolras had first approached the others about it, but then again Combeferre was generally like that – he’d help anyone who asked. Drawing a small question mark next to his name, Enjolras moved on.

When he reached Grantaire’s name, he was tired and more than a little agitated. He only had three possible candidates in _Les Amis_ , one being Combeferre - _seriously?_ \- Enjolras was really beginning to question his judgement. Nonetheless, he began dissecting Grantaire as he had the others. He was sarcastic and moody, above average intelligence no doubt. Grantaire was jovial by nature, and yet nobody with eyes could question the sadness written across his face today. Enjolras still couldn’t understand why Grantaire had joined _Les Amis;_ he certainly didn’t believe in any of the causes they strove to support. Maybe he was missing something about this man who often seemed to value drink over anything else?  But this was _Grantaire._

Enjolras slammed down the paper in his hand, discarding the pen as he rose from his seat. Running a hand through his hair, he made his way to the kitchen. More than anything else, he was aching for caffeine but opted for a simple glass of water; having not slept the night before, he didn’t want to take the risk. Leaning against the nearest counter, Enjolras checked his phone for the first time since ‘R’ had failed to make an appearance at his work.

_You okay?_

-          _Courf_

_When we find ‘R’ I’m going to kill him myself._

-          _Ep_

_I’m sorry. I hope you’re feeling ok. I can come over?_

-          _Comb_

_If you don’t answer I’m going to assume the worst._

-          _Courf_

_No but seriously, are you okay?_

-          _Ep_

_Everyone’s worried. Please reply._

-          _M_

_You probably just want some space, but I hope you’re okay._

-          _J_

Reading the messages made him smile, he was lucky to have friends that gave a damn.  Even so, if he had to read the word ‘okay’ one more time, he’d probably throw himself off the nearest cliff.  He sent a group text to everyone.

_I’m fine, just tired. Don’t reply. I’ll be asleep._

-          _E_

Enjolras climbed into bed, not bothering to change out of his current clothes. It really wasn’t a good idea to skip a full night sleep. Overcome with fatigue, he fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. Enjolras couldn’t remember what he’d been thinking of but it wasn’t ‘R’. The figure in his dream had bright blue eyes but nothing else was clear – everything was blurred, unclear in the darkness. He wouldn’t remember this dream when awake, but it felt almost comforting.  

Waking up to a screaming alarm that he couldn’t even remember setting, Enjolras groaned and pawed at his eyes. He certainly didn’t feel like working today but it wasn’t as if he had a choice – it was his job to mindlessly stamp books. At least it wasn’t hard.

Stopping off at _Le Café Musain_ for coffee on the way to work was a small treat, and Enjolras was surprised to the library early regardless of this stop. Opening the door, he was even more surprised to see Combeferre hovering over his desk, a small slip of paper in his hand.

‘This isn’t what it looks like.’ Combeferre said quickly as Enjolras approached, eyebrows touching the ceiling. _Oh dear God._ _Is this my life? What even –_ He was pulled out of his thoughts by his friend’s continued speech. ‘I can’t believe this is actually happening. I’m dead, I am absolutely dead. I was actually only delivering this, I swear!’

‘Listen, I’m sorry if I in anyway gave you the impression that - ’ Enjolras panicked, a rose-blush slowly rising on his face. _I don’t  - this isn’t - I can’t do this._ ‘I mean, I made a list and I did consider that – but then I never actually thought and what I’m trying to say is - ’

 _‘_ Please stop. I am literally in physical pain here, you don’t understand.’

‘You’re my friend and yes of course I value that but - ’

‘Enjolras, I was _delivering_ the God forsaken thing. You don’t actually think I’m coming on to you?’ Combeferre ran a hand across his face, a nervous gesture.  He smiled awkwardly as he continued to speak. ‘You’re a very – oh okay how do I say this? - attractive man but I - I’m not interested in - ’

Enjolras listened to Combeferre nervously stutter on until the word ‘delivering’ suddenly registered in his mind.

‘Wait, what do you mean _‘delivering’_? Cut the crap and just tell me what the hell is going on here.’

‘No, no you don’t understand I literally only found out an hour ago – two hours at the most – but I can’t just tell you I don’t - it’s not fair for me to - ’

‘No. You don’t get to make this decision!’ Enjolras growled and took a step forward, causing Combeferre to bump into his desk in retreat. ‘Don’t you think I deserve to know?’

‘Yes but you have to understand it’s not my place to -’ Enjolras glared at his friend, terrible in his gaze. He was only slightly taller than Combeferre but at that moment, he seemed to tower over him. Enjolras had a fiery temper, a side effect of his passionate nature; he was cruel and unwavering in his rage. Combeferre laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, trying to calm him. ‘I’ll tell you if that’s what you want, but know I’m not comfortable with this at all, okay? And I think you should read this before you decide.’

He handed Enjolras the paper, a poem and note scribbled on the inside. The writing was erratic, uneven – more so than usual. It would be hard to read if he hadn’t had so much practice in the past few weeks.

_‘I am two fools, I know,_

_For loving, and for saying so_

_In whining poetry;_

_But where’s that wiseman, that would not be I,_

_If she would not deny?_

_Then as th’ earth’s inward narrow crooked lanes_

_Do purge sea water’s fretful salt away,_

_I thought, if I could draw my pains_

_Through rhyme’s vexation, I should them allay._

_Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,_

_For he tames it, that fetters it in verse._

_But when I have done so,_

_Some man, his art and voice to show,_

_Doth set and sing my pain;_

_And, by delighting many, frees again_

_Grief, which verse did restrain._

_To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,_

_But not of such as pleases when ‘tis read._

_Both are increased by such songs,_

_For both their triumphs so are published,_

_And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;_

_Who are a little wise, the best fools be.’_

John Donne, how fitting. Enjolras couldn’t deny that this had been a perfect selection, if anything ‘R’ had a gift for choosing the right message. It was an apology he could understand, one he could almost accept. ‘R’ was scared of being a disappointment. He didn’t reveal himself out of _fear_. How could he be angry at someone who clearly thought so little of himself? Enjolras felt physically ill.

_‘I’m a coward, a living quotation, a fool. I use the words of the dead because my own are no good. I’m so sorry – R’_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I bring a new chapter for everyone to read. Another massive thank you to everyone continually reading this and sending lovely messages. I hope you’ll all enjoy the latest part! Again, I haven’t had time to read through this so please excuse any mistakes.

‘Do you still want to know?’ Combeferre asked quietly, searching Enjolras’ face for any reaction. For a few minutes he just stared, the weight of the message on his shoulders, the weight of the decision only adding to his discomfort. That’s the thing – Enjolras really did want to know. He just wasn’t sure if he was up to the challenge of getting to know ‘R’ as a _real_ human being.  Enjolras had a somewhat unclear image of ‘R’ in his mind; he was both more and less than a person in his eyes. Regardless, he also knew that he wanted - _needed_ \- to know.

‘I’m sure.’ Enjolras paused, stopping to take a deep breath. _This is it. ‘_ I’m sick of playing games.’

‘Okay, I’ll tell you if you promise not to storm out of here and straight to said person because - no - I’d better start from the beginning, right?’ Combeferre shifted, leaning against Enjolras’ desk as he looked for an indication to carry on. Enjolras nodded, blinking in the process – he already looked as if he was in shock and he hadn’t even heard the story yet.

‘Please carry on, the tension is killing me.’

‘So I was walking back to my apartment, after the whole library lock-in plan and as you probably know, I have to walk straight past - ’ Combeferre used his hands to extenuate his speech, animated in his knowledge.

‘Jesus Christ, Combeferre, spare me the unnecessary details.’

‘You know something? You could really use a few lessons in the importance of patience.’  Enjolras glared in response. Combeferre cleared his throat to break the silence, pushing his glasses further up his nose. ‘Right, sorry. Anyway, as I was saying, I have to walk right past that little back-street bar – I think it’s called _The Drunken Barista_ , because they’re supposed to serve coffee in the day or something? I don’t know. So I’m walking past and I see a man sprawled across the pavement. I was concerned because obviously this was at about 8am and he was heavily intoxicated - ’

‘Combeferre, really?’ Enjolras was clearly exasperated; his eyebrows twitched in frustration.

‘It’sGrantaireokaythereIsaidit’

Enjolras took a step back, leaning against the nearest wall. _Grantaire._ He repeated the name in his head, trying to make sense of the information. He closed his eyes for a single moment, attempting to match the face to the idea in his mind. _Grantaire? He was on the list but – wait, he doesn’t hate me?_ His confusion was clouding his ability to feel anything but sheer shock. For perhaps the first time in his life, Enjolras was truly speechless. When he opened his eyes, Combeferre was staring at him intently, trying to gage his reaction unsuccessfully.

‘Would you like to hear the rest of the story now?’

Enjolras merely nodded in response, unable to confidently form the word he was looking for.

‘Okay, so the guy on the pavement was Grantaire. He was a complete mess and he was bleeding – probably from the fall, I mean the concrete pavement really could have done some serious damage so he was actually pretty lucky. I picked him up and when I asked what happened he just kept repeating the same thing: ‘I couldn’t do it’ over and over again, and then he was crying. I didn’t know what else to do so I took him back to my place. I cleaned him up, made him drink some coffee, and he practically begged me to give this to you before he fell asleep. I could hardly say no.’

‘Thank you.’ To be quite honest, Enjolras didn’t know whether he was thanking his friend for finally telling him the truth or for simply looking after ‘R’ – _no_ – Grantaire. In his head, they were still two very separate entities. He wasn’t sure how or if they ever would merge into one single, whole being. ‘R’ was everything Grantaire seemed to oppose; the fact that they were the same person just didn’t make any sense. They were too different, too conflicting to ever be as one. But then again, maybe that was the point? 

_Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth._

It seemed like ‘R’ wasn’t the only person who could think in terms of quotes. Even Enjolras, who had a very unique way with words, couldn’t deny the wit of Oscar Wilde.

Enjolras couldn’t quite get his head around the fact that Grantaire had been in such a mess because of _him_. He wasn’t sure whether to feel guilty or angry; ashamed or annoyed. He both pitied and envied the man who could place his happiness so willingly on another’s shoulders. Enjolras didn't know what to feel. 

‘Are you going to be ok? I should really get back to him.’ Combeferre asked, taking in Enjolras’ curt nod before continuing. ‘Maybe you could come over later and - ’

‘No.’ Enjolras almost surprised himself with his answer, but he knew what he had to do.

‘Listen to me; _please_ don’t be too hard on him. He’s only human, Enjy.’ Combeferre looked down, a pensive glance on his face. He sighed before turning to leave.

‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Enjolras said, more to himself than anyone else. Although he suspected Combeferre might have heard his confession as his step seemed to brighten as he left. But maybe it was just his imagination. As Combeferre opened the door he caught a slight glimpse of a smile - or not his imagination then.

Enjolras needed to know, more than anything, that Grantaire was willing to be brave. He wasn’t asking for a declaration of love. To be perfectly honest, Enjolras wasn’t even sure if he knew what love was, much less if he could feel it. He wanted to know that Grantaire was, in some small way, the same ‘R’ that he felt he knew and maybe just possibly – _dare he even say it?_ – felt _something_ for, however deep inside that person may be.  He liked Grantaire well enough at times, he challenged him, made him less stoic in his ways, but nonetheless ‘R’ was something different altogether.  But at the same time he was part of Grantaire whether Enjolras wanted to admit it or not. One last message was needed, one to decide the future of their correspondence. For this he returned to Emily Dickinson, who felt like an old friend in the scheme of the past few weeks.

_‘To fight aloud is very brave,_   
_But gallanter, I know,_   
_Who charge within the bosom,_   
_The cavalry of woe._

_Who win, and nations do not see,_   
_Who fall, and none observe,_   
_Whose dying eyes no country_   
_Regards with patriot love._

_We trust, in plumed procession,_   
_For such the angels go,_   
_Rank after rank, with even feet_   
_And uniforms of snow.’_

He hoped that both ‘R’ and Grantaire would understand – only the brave change their views on life through an unseen battle of emotional turmoil. To truly win, Grantaire needed to put himself out there in the physical sense; face to face. Enjolras couldn’t fight another’s battle, no matter how much he may want to, but he could definitely help.

_‘I think you’re braver than you know. Meet me here next Wednesday, 7pm. Prove me right – E’_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly sorry for the long wait, but I bring the next part of A Conversation in Poetry. I'm dedicating this particular chapter to Enjy (procrastveit) who recently received some anonymous poetry of her own and I can only hope it turns out as well for her as it will for E/R. This is the longest part as of yet, and possibly the hardest to write. But it's okay because there's fluff and happiness! Again, I haven't read through this so please excuse any mistakes. Thank you to everyone continually reading this and sending lovely comments!

The wait was agonising. Enjolras had never been the most patient of his friends, and yet in the past twenty-four hours he’d gone from counting hours to minutes; minutes to seconds. He’d taken to pacing, wearing down the thin beige carpet of his student apartment. When this didn’t distract from the gnawing, persistent ache in his stomach, Enjolras had taken to flipping through TV channels; using the numbers instead of the arrows as a method of distraction. Of course, this hadn’t worked for long – his mind was reeling.

 For someone usually so disciplined and organised, Enjolras felt truly and literally out of his depth. There were so many things that could go wrong; so many factors that could no more be controlled than the weather or an idea. He wondered if ‘R’ – _Grantaire_ – would even show. And even if he did, how would Enjolras react? What would he say? Where would they even go from here? Despite the ever growing anxiety he felt, Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to regret the invitation he’d sent. It was necessary, logical even.

There was one simple problem: however ‘ _logical_ ’ Enjolras claimed to be, his mind seemed to be in dispute. It was a constant battle – he knew he needed sleep and yet somehow he also felt it a waste of his time. He was restless, forever waiting for morning, or so it seemed. It was almost 4am before he felt himself drift into unconsciousness; too tired to continue his current train of thought. It was often like that for Enjolras, he’d think until he physically couldn’t. However, he awoke feeling suitably rested and ready for what the day might bring.

But it was Wednesday and that meant one thing only: _more waiting_.

_Today’s the day. Nervous? (:_

-          _Comb_

_I’m fine. You didn’t tell him that I already know, right?_

-          _E_

_Your secret is safe. Jehan is going to kill the both of us for not telling him. I hope you’re happy._

-          _Comb_

Enjolras smiled as he wrote his reply. It was essential that Grantaire didn’t know – he needed to prove something to himself, not to Enjolras. As for Jehan and the rest of _Les Amis,_ Enjolras felt this particular plan on a need-to-know basis. It was easier this way, more efficient.

_We’ll live. This is important._

-          _E_

Enjolras calculated that he had just less than ten hours until Grantaire was supposed to meet him. Groaning internally, he negotiated his way through his routine. Treating himself to coffee before work, Enjolras felt himself relax. _There was nothing else to be done._ _Everything was on Grantaire now._ It was these thoughts that caused him to tense up once again. Enjolras literally had no control over this situation. It was a scary thought – terrifying to a man who knew that he had exactly twenty one days until he needed to buy a new toothbrush.

Working managed to subdue his on-going internal monologue, and soon the prospect of meeting with ‘R’ was mere minutes away; seven to be exact. Then again, Grantaire had never been known for his punctuality. Enjolras had to remind himself that there was a possibility that he wouldn’t even come. But it was unthinkable, illogical – he’d cross that particular bridge if he ever came to it. He secretly hoped he’d never have to.

Four minutes to go.

Enjolras stacked some books, despite the library being practically deserted. _Oh my God. What if – please stop thinking. Why am I giving myself instructions? Does this count as talking to myself?_

Two minutes.

He sorted the notice-board pins into colours. _Where the hell is he? Maybe he’s not – no. He’ll be here._

Fifty seconds.

His phone beeped, startling Enjolras out of his apprehensions.

_Good Luck, Romeo._

-          _Comb_

Enjolras scoffed, making a mental note to reply later. He shook his head, placing his phone on his desk before busying himself with putting a small stack of books away on a near-by shelf. Combeferre definitely knew how to make him smile.

Placing the last book in its rightful place, Enjolras heard the door open. He took a deep breath, peering through the bookcase. _Grantaire._ He watched the other man close the door behind himself, nervously tugging the woollen red hat from his head and twisting it in his hands. Biting down on his bottom lip, He looked around, searching for something. _Damn._ _He’s looking for me – I should probably –_

Grantaire shook his head, seemingly having a battle of his own. He looked small, uncertain in the palatial surroundings of the library. Enjolras suddenly felt a wave of respect for the other man who had had the courage to finally show himself. It had to be hard walking straight into the unknown. Unable to move, Enjolras observed as Grantaire let out a weak, almost bitter laugh. He stepped towards the door. 

_No. This isn’t right. What is he doing?_

Enjolras finally found the courage to move. He took long strides until the other man, hearing his approach, turned to face him. His eyes widened in panic. Grantaire was clearly just about to leave, but why? He’d already done the hardest part by being here. 

‘Enjolras, I didn’t know you’d be working this late! I was just here to -’ Grantaire fumbled, a strange red blush forming on his cheeks. Enjolras was confused _._ What was he _doing? ‘_ Take out some books. Because we’re in a library and that’s what one does in a library. In fact I was literally just about to check out this book -’

He picked up the closest book within his reach, ' _What to Expect When You're Expecting'_ . Grantaire swore under his breath, running his one free hand through his wildly messy hair. He wondered what that felt like before remembering that he wasn’t in fact a pubescent teenage girl. It wasn't the first time Enjolras had mentally appreciated Grantaire's appearance, but he found it slightly alarming nonetheless.  

'I've heard it's very informative.' _Oh my God. What was that?_

'Well it's funny you should say that, I had heard some very promising things from a colleague of mine. You see, I am - I'm looking into the effects of pregnancy on a woman's body for art class - '

'Art class, really?' Enjolras nodded, biding his time. He wanted to find the perfect phrase to express what he was thinking. There was one obvious problem: he didn’t even know what he was thinking. His mind was in pieces, torn between second-hand embarrassment and a twisted sense of appreciation. He had to hand it to Grantaire; he was actually pretty good at this.

'Yes and I thought where better to get said information than right here? '

‘What are you trying to accomplish here, Grantaire? I know - ’

'As I said, I was looking for this book. In fact, I should probably just be going.' Grantaire turned to leave, clutching the book tightly to his chest; his fingers were practically white. The grin he forced onto his face didn’t quite reach his eyes and Enjolras suddenly pitied his friend. He had to take control, wasn’t it enough that he’d had the courage to show up? Not everyone was made for wild gestures of faith, Enjolras wasn’t even sure he could have walked into this without knowing _something_.

'No, wait!' Enjolras was suddenly at a loss for words. He couldn't let him go and yet he didn't know what to say. He cursed mentally as he called out a response. 'I'm going to have to scan your book if you're leaving.'

‘Right. Let us go forth and do that. I just _really_ couldn’t wait to get home and start reading.’

Enjolras turned to his desk, picking up the scanner. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d let this ridiculous situation play out, but he was finding it hard to stop. He didn’t know what to say, how to act. It seemed so strange to someone who was used to giving speeches to hundreds of people; how could any one person have such an effect on his simple motor functions? Taking the book from Grantaire, who looked as if he wanted to die right there on that spot, he searched for the barcode and checked it out in his name.

 _‘_ I hope it’s a - fascinating? - read.’ _Say something. This wasn’t the plan, Enjolras, what the hell are you doing?_ Regardless of his internal struggle, he passed the book back to Grantaire who gave a weak grin in return. ‘What are we doing here?’

They stood just meters apart, a small gap separating two anxious minds. Looking directly into each other’s eyes, they paused unsure of what to do next. The seconds stretched into minutes and it was unbearable. To say it was awkward would be a horrendously large understatement. Grantaire’s lips twitched and suddenly they were both _laughing_. It was unexpected, welcome. Their laughter echoed throughout the library, bringing warmth into the cold. Enjolras leaned back against his desk, bracing himself as he recovered his breath. It’d been a long time since he’d laughed like that, probably too long. It was refreshing.

‘Can we just pretend that the last ten minutes _didn’t_ happen?’ Grantaire brought a hand up to his neck, a nervous gesture no doubt. When he finally glanced up at Enjolras, he was almost his usual self.

‘I know why you’re here.’ Enjolras raised his eyes to Grantaire’s, taking in his wide-eyed stare. It was more than a little strange to see him in this way; unarmed with sarcasm or a biting quip. His head was tipped in realisation, deep blue eyes clear instead of stormy. Was this the real Grantaire or was this merely ‘R’ finally seeing the light of day?

‘I’m just beginning to figure that out.’ His answer was quiet, a confession. ‘You’re disappointed, right? I mean, I’m probably the last person you’d want to be here but - ’

‘No. You’ve got this all wrong – that wasn’t what – you don’t understand.’ Enjolras stumbled before realising that he was speechless. He was no good with feelings, he never had been. Confessions of the heart had often angered him, but he suddenly understood why so many had trouble expressing what exactly it was they were feeling.  He sighed, momentarily frowning before looking to Grantaire for help.

‘Trouble speaking, Apollo? Oh how the mighty have fallen, I shall most definitely remember this moment.’ It was a sorry attempt at sarcasm, but it was also familiar. Enjolras knew _this_ Grantaire. He smiled the faintest hint of a grin in response; Grantaire was trying to put _him_ at ease. Enjolras was suddenly thankful, almost blushing.

‘Let me start that again. I knew before I asked you to meet me here and no I’m not disappointed or anything of the sort. ’

‘What? How could you even – Combeferre? _Oh._ ’ His mouth formed around the ‘o’ slowly, the realisation that Enjolras also knew about his drunken crusade also setting in. He swiped a hand over his face, resting his thumb and a finger momentarily on his chin. Enjolras was surprised to find it almost endearing. _Seriously? You’re starting to sound like Marius._ He momentarily debated whether this was more alarming than talking to himself.   _Yes._

‘Listen, as you probably know I’ve never really been in a situation like this before -’ He paused as Grantaire muttered ‘ _You’re not the only one’_ under his breath. Smiling to himself, he continued. ‘But I don’t want you to think I’m not interested because I think – I know – that I am and what I’m trying to say is, I’d like to get to know you better. I mean, I know ‘R’ and I thought I knew you as Grantaire but how do these two, at least in my mind, separate entities cross over? Yes, I’m confused but I’m also willing to accept that -’

He paused mid-sentence, taking in the other man’s expression. It was one of relief, confusion – wonder? Enjolras remembered that ‘R’ had expressed feelings of insecurity, but Grantaire looked completely awe-struck. Taking a step forward towards him, Enjolras placed himself an arm’s width away from him. Grantaire was slightly taller than Enjolras – he’d never noticed that before but he liked it.

‘I feel like there’s some sort of hidden camera and that this is all some elaborate prank to fool me into thinking that you’d actually want to – well you know, and this can’t be real because I -’ Grantaire, having abandoned his hat and book to a nearby ledge, used his hands to talk. His palms were open in front of him as Enjolras closed the distance between them. He was surprised, although no more than Enjolras himself who been the initiator. _Well, he was a bit of a control freak._ Grantaire smiled into the kiss, his hands braced on Enjolras’ chest.

Enjolras was surprised to find that he was no longer thinking; he was _feeling,_ returning the smile before he could stop himself. He felt Grantaire move his hands from his chest to his neck, holding his face - almost as if touching made it more _real._ The tips of his fingers were tangled in Enjolras' own, now slightly dishevelled hair, pulling him closer. _He could get used to this._

When they finally broke apart, Enjolras was actually blushing. For lack of a better term, Grantaire almost had heart palpitations, breathing deeply as a lop-sided grin made its way to his mouth. Enjolras looked flustered; younger in his innocence. He was usually so put together, and this side of Enjolras was disconcerting. He looked lost. For the first time, Grantaire began to realise that Enjolras was human too.

'I'm sorry I really don't know what I was thinking.'

‘You know, if you wanted me to stop talking you could have just said so.’ It was light and teasing, Grantaire raised his eyebrows suggestively as Enjolras tried to cover his embarrassment. ‘I mean, I’d memorised a poem and it was going to be _very_ romantic but I seem to have forgotten it – your fault entirely, I’ll have you know.’

‘I’ll make sure to actually ask your permission next time, _my lady_. ’ Enjolras almost feigned a bow, but decided against it – he was never one for dramatics. He smirked before continuing his speech. ‘You _really_ need to learn when to shut up. Has anyone ever told you how irritatingly cynical you can be?’

‘Actually, yes. But, I could grow very fond of ‘being told to shut up’ as you so eloquently put it.’ Enjolras rolled his eyes and stepped back, but not before Grantaire himself had taken his turn to initiate a kiss. It was short and sweet, the complete opposite of their first. ‘Now we’re even.’

‘How about that coffee?’ Enjolras began collecting his things. He appeared to regain his confidence, urging Grantaire to do the same. It seemed that the bought of uncertainty had passed in the eyes of Enjolras. Tugging on his red hat, Grantaire laughed as he picked up ‘ _What to Expect When You’re Expecting’._

 _‘_ Do you think I could return this first?’


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow updates, but this is quite a long chapter so I hope you'll forgive me! Thank you once again to everyone leaving comments and kudos, basically to anyone taking the time to read this :)

Enjolras seemed to come alive with caffeine in his system. It was a relief; he’d never been comfortable with the absence of thoughts and the presence of Grantaire only seemed to add to the confusion. As the coffee awakened his senses, Enjolras realised that he’d already make his first mistake. Perhaps the _Musain_ wasn’t the best place to have this particular conversation – other members of _Les Amis_ also frequented the café and he simply wasn’t in the mood for explanations. Explanation was just another word for justification. He wasn’t ready, nor did he have the ability to explain quite what was going on here. To define a person or a relationship would require understanding, something that Enjolras certainly didn’t have. _Yet._

‘As much as I love watching that busy little brain of yours think; would you mind sharing?’ Grantaire smiled and took a small silver flask from his pocket, tipping a fair amount of liquid into his cream-laced coffee. Enjolras frowned. _Was that really necessary?_

‘I’m just working a few things out.’

‘Care to expand? Contrary to popular believe, I’m actually quite well versed in the practise of thinking.’ He stirred his drink before taking a sip, hands curled protectively around the mug. ‘Shocking, I know.’

‘Contrary to popular belief, I’m not too fond of thinking aloud.’ He paused as Grantaire’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Leaning back into his chair, Enjolras continued. He folded his arms in his lap, more out of habit than anything else. ‘But this isn’t the most ordinary circumstance, is it? I’m willing to make an exception, mainly because I can’t seem to make sense of my own thoughts – maybe you’ll have more luck?’ 

‘I’m just as confused as you are.’

Enjolras nodded, the hint of a smile on his lips. He noted Grantaire’s slightly shaken appearance, although he wasn’t sure if this was a result of what had happened in the library or a simple lack of alcohol.  Either way, the man looked fragile. Not broken, but chipped around the edges. Enjolras was surprised to find that he wanted to mend the chips, smooth them over and put the puzzle of a man back together. Then again, maybe he didn’t want to be fixed. There was something tragic about a human being with so much potential, with so much _good_ inside, going to waste.

 _No._ On second thought, he was wrong. Grantaire wasn’t broken or chipped or anything of the sort, he only believed himself to be. The human mind is a powerful tool, an imagination as active as Grantaire’s could easily create another version of himself; one not entirely accurate. It seemed self-deprecation ran deep in his veins.

Enjolras remembered the note from ‘R’ claiming that he himself didn’t see himself very clearly. He was starting to believe that it might just be the other way around.

‘I understand why you used poetry, I _think_ understand what you’re trying to say - although a short summary wouldn’t go amiss - but we’ve known each other for what – two years now? What I’m trying to say is, why now? What changed?’

Grantaire shifted in his seat, black curls falling into his face as he learned forward. Enjolras noted the pleasant contrast between his red knitted hat and his raven-hair before mentally slapping himself. _What was he doing?_ He wanted answers; needed focus.

‘Enjolras, you know what I was trying to say. You’re smarter than that.’

‘Humour me.’

‘Now that, I can do.’ He gave a short nod, one corner of his mouth hitched in recognition. ‘Dickinson, Poe, and Donne – they all write about the same thing when you read between the lines, Enjolras.’

‘No.’ He unwound his hands from his chest, resting one hand on his jaw. He couldn’t hear that. _Not now._ Panic flared in his chest, the unspoken word clear in his mind. _Love._ _‘_ Don’t say it. You don’t know me enough to say that and I certainly don’t know you as well as - ’

‘It’s okay, I understand.’ For a moment the ‘R’ Enjolras knew well found his way to the surface, but he had to look away. There was so much _caring_ in his eyes. When he continued speaking, his tone was light once again. ‘I think I know you better than you give me credit for, Apollo.’

‘Perhaps.’ Enjolras raised his eyes to other man to find one eyebrow turned upwards in amusement, almost as he was saying ‘ _You really have no idea, do you?’_ And he would be right, although Enjolras might just be beginning to understand. ‘Anyway, continue. Why now?’

‘Oh I don’t know! Does everything have to make sense; have a reason?’ It wasn’t a rhetorical question, that much he could tell. It was almost comforting to finally have something to debate about.

‘Without reason, are we even human anymore? Animals act on basic instincts, neglecting a rational thought process. That’s how chaos is created. That’s not who we, as people, should strive to be.’ This time, it was Enjolras who leaned forward. Finally feeling at home in his speech, he pounced.  ‘Are _you_ an animal, Grantaire?’

‘Say that again and I might get the wrong idea about you, Enjolras.’ It was laced with innuendo, but he didn’t even entertain this with a response. The other man shrugged, unflinching and unwavering in his gaze. He liked this Grantaire. ‘Maybe I am, would that really be so bad? I’ve a feeling you think too much.’

‘And you too little.’

‘What a pair we make, am I right?’

Enjolras was surprised to find their close proximity more enthralling than awkward. He almost groaned in frustration as his phone beeped inside his jeans. He leaned back to take a look.

_The sexual tension in this room right now is unreal. If you don’t kiss him, I will._

-          _Ep_

Enjolras stared at his phone, slowly lifting his head to look around the room. _Oh Dear God no._ Eponine, along with Combeferre, Jehan and Courfeyrac, stood in the doorway of the _Musain._ He glanced back at Grantaire, who seemed to be _laughing._

 _‘_ Oh, I’m glad someone’s amused by this.’

‘Come on Enjy, you have to admit _this_ is funny.’

The way he saw it, he had two options: drag Grantaire out of here with him, or stay and face the hypothetical music head on. Well, he’d never shied away from a challenge before, why start now? He showed Grantaire the text; he once again failed to stifle his laughter. Enjolras wondered, not for the first time, if laughter was Grantaire's way of coping with stressful situations. 

As the other _Amis_ approached, Grantaire swiftly raised himself from his seat across the table and seated himself next to his Apollo. Enjolras wrongly assumed that this was to make space for the others.

‘You know that’s not such a bad idea. How about that kiss?’ Grantaire whispered from his new-found position. His voice was low and teasing, anyone else would have shivered at such a voice but this was Enjolras. He wasn’t just _anyone else_.  He was the very personification of control.

 ‘This isn’t the time or the place to -’ Enjolras was cut off as Grantaire kissed his cheek, holding his face in the gentlest way possible. It wasn’t entirely awful, Enjolras admitted begrudgingly. Besides it wasn’t like it was the first time Grantaire had kissed him. Feigning exasperation, he sighed, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth. ‘Do you live to irritate me?’

‘I do my best.’

Eponine sat in the newly-vacated seat open-mouthed as the others pulled up chairs. Enjolras wasn’t usually one to feel self-conscious but this was mildly unsettling, he had to admit. 

‘What the _hell_ did I just witness?’ Eponine stared at them both in turn, taking in their expressions. Grantaire’s was one of amusement and possibly disbelief, whereas Enjolras looked decidedly uncomfortable. ‘I mean, I knew _Grantaire_ had a 'thing' for you but since when did _this_ happen?’

‘I’m assuming it went well?’ Combeferre asked a smile of knowledge on his face. He looked to Enjolras, who gave a curt nod of encouragement, before directing his next speech at Grantaire. ‘And are _you_ okay? I’m going to hazard a guess at yes, but I thought I’d ask regardless.’

‘Couldn’t be happier, my friend.’ He was sat close to Enjolras, although he wasn’t quite touching him. He didn’t want to push his luck for a second time just yet, it seemed selfish. Enjolras was obviously having a hard time getting his head around – well, whatever it was he was thinking and Grantaire only hoped it wasn’t a sign of doubt.  He silently thanked Combeferre for taking care of him that night. Combeferre shook his head slightly in response as if to say ‘ _it doesn’t matter’._

‘What do you mean ‘went well’ – you knew about this?’ Jehan, who had been surprisingly quiet so far, elbowed Combeferre in the chest.

‘I made him promise not to say anything, Jehan.’ Enjolras replied. ‘I didn’t want this to be a public affair, but that didn’t exactly go to plan.’  

Enjolras took the silence as an invitation to divulge the night’s events, electing to keep in the part about _What to Expect When You’re Expecting_ as payback for Grantaire’s attempt to embarrass him. He was almost surprised to find Grantaire a better story-teller story than himself, and soon enough he’d taken over the tale. It was strange hearing something he’d lived from the perspective of another. Soon enough, Enjolras was trying, unsuccessfully, to keep a impassive expression at the detailed, if not exaggerated, account of their first kiss. His plan for payback had most definitely backfired. 

‘Wait – hold up – so _Grantaire_ is ‘R’ and he managed to seduce Enjolras with a book about pregnancy?’ Courfeyrac wholeheartedly giggled, his entire body shaking under the effort. Eponine was close behind, tears of laughter rolling down her cheeks. Combeferre merely smiled and congratulated Grantaire on his ability to do what no other human being could.

Jehan pulled Enjolras out of his seat and forced him into a bouncy hug. It would have been awkward if Jehan hadn’t had enough enthusiasm for the both of them.  Enjolras no longer felt uncomfortable. In fact, he felt happy.

‘Jehan, I don’t know whether you’re aware of this, but I do need to breathe at some point.’

‘Less talking – more hugging.’ Jehan mumbled into his shoulder as he beckoned Grantaire into the now group-hug. 

Later that night, everyone had elected to give Enjolras and Grantaire some much needed privacy. Enjolras was relieved; he needed space for his own thoughts and perhaps more significantly, those of Grantaire. He was unsure what the other man was really thinking between the sarcasm and cynicism that seemed to live inside him. On the short walk back to campus, they’d talked about nothing and everything. 

‘Enjolras, can I ask you something?’ Grantaire suddenly looked pensive. In the pale light of the moon he appeared almost translucent. A ghost of the joyful man he’d witnessed in the _Musain._ Enjolras thought tonight had gone well, and he was confused once again. _This was becoming a habit._

‘Of course, ask away.’

‘Where is this even going?’ He paused, looking at the ground as he fumbled. ‘I mean, once the excitement wears off and you realise you’ve taken on half a person? I’m not like you, you do realise that? When I inevitably screw up, I’m going to need a bit of warning before you kick me to the hypothetical curb.’  

‘A wise man once told me that I don’t see myself very clearly, but I think he might have the same problem.’ Enjolras turned Grantaire to face him, lightly but with enough force to create an impression.

‘I don’t think he was wise at all, just observant.’

‘Well, see that’s where you’re wrong. I happen to know for a fact that this guy is highly intelligent, if not a little too stubborn for his own good.’

‘We’ll see.’ Grantaire turned to leave, pulling a key from his pocket. ‘I’d invite you in for a night-cap but I’ve a feeling that wouldn’t go down too well.’

‘Possibly not.’ Enjolras contemplated speaking out about Grantaire’s obvious reliance on alcohol but this clearly wasn’t the time. He watched the other man walk away before calling out to him. ‘Come to my place tomorrow, I have an essay to write but if you arrive after five, we can actually have a proper conversation.’

‘Are you asking me on a date?’ Grantaire smiled, his face lit up with warmth. ‘Oh my, I’ll be asking you to declare your intentions if we keep on meeting like this.’

Enjolras smiled, reassured by the sarcastic quip. He missed the encrypted honesty of ‘R’ but for now this was enough. He’d find out more tomorrow, he was determined.

‘If you bring flowers I _will_ close the door in your face.’


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long and fluffy chapter in apology for the long wait (:   
> Please excuse any mistakes/misspellings - I don't have a beta and I didn't have the patience for another read-through.

For someone so organised, Enjolras felt completely out of control. He’d slept for no more than three hours the night before, his head reeling with thoughts. It wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t like there was anything _wrong_ with him; he was just overworked. Enjolras often found it hard to switch off at night, and forcing his brain to be quiet was a task that required a great deal of effort. He’d fell into unconsciousness at around six in the morning, unable to even spare the energy to turn off his yellow-orange reading lamp.

He’d get over it; he always did.

There wasn’t much Enjolras could do on three hours of sleep, but he did get a hefty portion of a particularly difficult essay written. In the very least, that was something. Sure, it took him twice as long as usual to organise his thoughts well enough to actually write anything down but he’d done it. And believe it or not, it actually made a relative amount of sense.  He considered that an achievement.

By the time Enjolras had showered, changed and drown himself in caffeine, it was already half past four. He had exactly thirty minutes to tidy his apartment and make himself look relatively presentable. Although to be quite honest, he looked and felt pretty terrible. The bruise-like circles under his eyes made him look older, wearier somehow. He’d needed a haircut for the past few weeks, and so his hair had been allowed to grow out more than he’d like. It was beginning to curl around the edges, more yellow instead of gold. Enjolras was _tired._ Taking one last look in the mirror, he frowned. Quite frankly, there was only so much a comb through the hair could do for a man’s appearance.

Sitting down on the couch, Enjolras smiled to himself. It was a small smile, filled with unspoken words and just a hint of doubt. A few minutes passed and he realised how utterly foolish he must look, sitting alone and grinning into thin air. Enjolras shook his head, wiping any trace of contentment from his face. _What was he doing?_ This was completely out of character for him. He reminded himself that his meeting with Grantaire - with ‘R’ - was a quest for answers. Although he couldn’t deny that there was _something_ between them, Enjolras simply couldn’t entertain the idea of an actual relationship. It seemed silly, reckless to feel _anything_ at all for a drunk; a cynical, infuriating and self-deprecating drunk nonetheless. Then again, Enjolras was partial to change in some ways.  Though critical by nature, he found himself admiring the positive aspects of Grantaire more and more. He had a good heart, a sparkling wit and an incredibly intense and interesting mind. He was almost excited to see him today, but that could also be the sleep deprivation talking.

_To be honest, it probably was the sleep deprivation talking._

And Enjolras certainly wasn’t thinking about blue eyes and black curls when the doorbell rang. 

_Except he was._

‘Anyone home?’ Grantaire’s voice came from behind the door, light and teasing in tone. ‘If you don’t open the door soon, the _lovely_ flowers I bought will wilt!’

He flung the door open, ready to argue with the other man. Enjolras was more than relieved when he opened the door to find him empty-handed. Frowning involuntary, he responded under his breath.

‘You complete and utter ass.’

‘Not exactly the welcome I expected, but I’ll take it.’

Enjolras stepped back, motioning for Grantaire to enter. He looked around appreciatively, taking in the pale cream walls of the small apartment, the wall of bookcases filled with anything from popular fiction to a political commentary on wall-street. It was well-lit, light streaming through one of the two windows in the kitchen. Grantaire noted the two doors situated to the left, no doubt a bedroom and a bathroom. The doors were closed. Enjolras’ whole apartment was a juxtaposition of warmth and cold; a fitting abode for someone so maddeningly confusing in everyday life. 

‘Nice place, it suits you.’

‘Thank you?’ Enjolras wasn’t sure how to respond; whether that particular comment was an insult or a compliment. He shook it off before continuing. ‘Take a seat by all means, would you like anything to drink? There’s tea, coffee, some floral tasting concoction that Jehan made - ’

‘You got anything with more of a kick?’

Enjolras responded silently with the raising of one eyebrow. Aiming for disapproving, though to be quite honest he probably just looked mildly insane. He didn’t drink, Grantaire knew this already. Just when Enjolras was begging to forget about the third presence in the room, it was there _again_. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold his tongue. Fatigue certainly did no favours for his patience.

‘In that case, just surprise me.’ Grantaire seemed restless, almost buzzing with energy as he moved around the living room. He examined the many books scattered around, idly flipping to marked pages in poetry books; scanning for his favourite authors before glancing back at Enjolras. He noted the obvious strain in his eyes as he poured coffee into two separate mugs. ‘You look strange, are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ Grantaire crossed the room to get a closer look, the kitchen counter separating himself and Enjolras. He sighed, a sound of exasperation. ‘No really, I’m completely fine. I just haven’t been sleeping too well. It’s nothing.’

Pushing a mug towards the other man, Enjolras motioned towards the sofa in the living room. The TV was playing to itself but he didn’t turn it off; he found the background noise comforting and familiar. Grantaire sat with his legs crossed, an arm slung across the back of the couch. Anyone else might have found the position uncomfortable, but he seemed to feel at ease and that was enough for Enjolras. Though his posture was truly awful, he noted. It completely contrasted to his own straight-backed, feet firmly on the floor stance.

‘What could possibly be keeping the great and mighty Apollo up at night?’ Grantaire sipped his coffee, curling his hands around the bright red mug. _He looked so at home_ , Enjolras thought absentmindedly.

‘It’s ridiculous really; I just can’t seem to stop thinking.’ Enjolras paused, raising the bitter liquid to his lips. He sighed before offering a small smile, reassuring in nature. ‘It’s usually only happens once or twice a month, but this is the third time this week. I’ll work around it - I told you it was nothing.’

‘Doesn’t sound like nothing to me. You really need to learn how to relax, Enjolras.’

‘I don’t have the energy to argue with you, but if I did I’d tell you to mind your own business. I know how to relax, maybe I just don’t like wasting my time and money on alcohol and -’ Even as the words escaped his mouth, Enjolras winced. _Damn it._ His temper was short at the best of times and it seemed to be magnified. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

If Grantaire was hurt by his comment, it didn’t show on his face.

‘It’s fine.’ That phrase seemed to be on repeat between the two of them. The other man watched as Enjolras finally relaxed into the sofa, their legs almost touching. What Grantaire really wanted to do was to have Enjolras lay down, his head in his lap, and make him sleep. He’d play with his hair, talk about nothing until he stopped thinking for long enough to drift off. Then again, he highly doubted Enjolras would be up for that particular plan. ‘You wanted to talk?’

‘I did – I do? – yes that’s the phrase I was looking for.’

‘Go ahead by all means.’ Grantaire used his one free hand to motion outwards, a small flick. It was strange to see Enjolras so human-looking, with dark circles under his eyes and mussed-up hair.  He found himself loving this version of him too; he seemed more approachable in his fatigue. And Grantaire was more than a little partial to the hair, he had to admit. That being said, he loved everything about Enjolras. 

‘I’m not quite sure how or where to start, but I think we need to work out exactly what it is we’re doing here.’ He shifted in his seat, turning to face Grantaire. The problem was, he was actually beginning to like the other man a lot more than he was willing to admit. Enjolras never usually had a problem conveying his ideas and his passions, but feelings for another person were an entirely different matter.  To say what he was thinking almost felt like a betrayal of his own nature.

Enjolras strove for independence; he worked and paid for his own apartment despite having sickeningly wealthy parents. He didn’t take any money from them unless he was truly desperate. And this was exactly the way he wanted his life to be, or so he’d thought. Relying on another person was a scary thought, loving another person an even more terrifying concept.

‘I have no interest in dishonesty or deception. I was going to add dating to that list, but I obviously made an exception on your account.’ Pausing to gage Grantaire - or perhaps R’s - reaction, Enjolras was pleased to find a lofty grin firmly etched into his face. _Perhaps this wasn’t going quite as badly as he’d thought._ ‘I want you to know that I like you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of kissing you if I didn’t have some feelings for you. I don’t believe in white lies, or saving people’s feelings out of charity. That’s wrong. I don’t want you to think I’m in any way leading you on because - ’

‘Whoa, hold on right there! I know you’re not that kind of person.’ Grantaire didn’t falter as he placed his now-empty cup on the table. He raised his eyes to Enjolras’ own; he wanted to make sure the other man was really _listening._ ‘It’s one of the reasons why I – don’t worry, I’m not going to say _it_ – like you so much.’

Enjolras nodded, taking in the revelation. If he hadn’t already accepted Grantaire and ‘R’ as a complete package, he did now. There was something uniquely different about Grantaire. He was able to read between the expressions and chatter almost like he would a poem or a story. ‘Acutely perceptive’ would be an accurate term. _Maybe that’s why he chose drink, maybe he sees too much._ It was a long shot, and Enjolras doubted even Grantaire knew why or when his problem really started or if he even knew he had one.

‘You’re intelligent and honest and inspiring and argumentative as hell, might I add. I’m also pretty certain your face - and your well, everything - should be illegal. You should know that I didn’t just suddenly develop a little school-girl crush one day and decide to act on it impulsively; I’ve _liked_ you for a long time, okay? I know about your stupidly idealistic brain, your obsessive work-ethic and even your absolute loathing/fear/hatred of a certain word begging with ‘L’ but I also really don’t mind at all. In fact it’s all insanely adorable because it’s part of you and wow did I actually just say that out loud? I’m actually going to throw myself from the nearest building and - ’

‘Grantaire, you’re doing it again.’

‘What?’ Enjolras raised an eyebrow and motioned to his lips. Grantaire chuckled to himself, rolling his eyes in mock frustration. ‘I always I talk when I’m nervous. You’ll get used to it.’

‘I’m sure I will. It’s actually quite amusing, if you must know.’

‘Oh, really? In that case I should probably tell you that I find it literally impossible to watch a movie without narrating the entire thing. I may or may not have been thrown out of the cinema on more than one occasion.’

‘In that case, I say we choose a movie.’ Enjolras moved through his apartment to the stack of movies on his bookcase. Grantaire stayed seated as he learned over the sofa, balancing his head on his hands.

‘What’s the worst movie you own? Because that is definitely the movie I want to watch.’ He paused to flick a stray curl from his eyes, grinning fondly at Enjolras. ‘Come, on it’ll be hilarious!’

Enjolras shook his head, not quite understanding the other man’s logic. Still, he played along and picked out a terrible teen slasher called _Prom Night_ that Courf had left behind after one of their monthly group movie nights. They made popcorn, put in the DVD and settled on the sofa.

‘For God’s sake, Enjolras, you look like a spare part. Come over here before I make you.’ He considered arguing for the sake of it, but decided against it. Enjolras decided to try something new as he shifted closer to Grantaire, who looped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in. It was warm and comfortable, his head slightly resting on Grantaire’s chest; he could feel his laughter vibrating through him as he pressed play on the movie. ‘Not so bad, right?’

He mumbled a sarcastic reply, although there was no feeling behind it. Enjolras was actually having a better time than he cared to admit, and he found himself enjoying Grantaire’s dry wit as he chastised the protagonists, made keen and sharp observations about the more than lacking plot. It felt natural as he too began to intercede, laughing at the poor visual effects and two dimensional characters.

However Enjolras began to nod, the sleepless nights taking their toll. Grantaire’s breathing slowed his thoughts, relaxed his mind into a state of peace.  He mumbled an apology before artists’ hands began playing with his hair, urging him to sleep. Without the energy to resist, Enjolras quickly fell into a contempt slumber; the living pillow that was Grantaire smiling in response as he turned off the movie.

_There were certainly worse ways to spend his Thursday night._


	10. Chapter 10

On awakening, Enjolras could have sworn his rather comfortable pillow was in fact breathing.

_Oh._

_Probably because it was._

The familiar confusion associated with sleep still clouded his mind as he remembered the events of last night. The last thing he recalled was watching a movie, but he’d been too tired to process anything else. Enjolras wasn’t sure whether to panic or blush; get up or simply relax. He opted for the latter, although it was easier said than done. The rhythmic rise and fall of Grantaire’s chest confirmed that he was still asleep; Enjolras almost breathed a sigh of relief but opted against it. He didn’t want to wake his visitor, not yet.

Surprisingly enough, their current position wasn’t awkward at all. Enjolras was lying on his side; his back braced against the sofa, one hand quite literally tangled in Grantaire’s shirt. He considered removing it but didn’t want to make any sudden movements. The other man was on his back; head buried in Enjolras’ shoulder and a single arm was flung around his waist. For the most part, their legs were a comforting knot of limbs. _It was nice, almost natural._

Not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful for the restful night’s sleep, he slowly tipped his head back to get a good look at Grantaire in his current state of unconsciousness. He would have looked serene, almost vulnerable if not for the wild mane of coils currently splayed out in more than several different directions. The black curls tickled his neck, soft hairs causing a shiver to run down his spine. Content in his observations, Enjolras once again rested his head on Grantaire’s chest.

In his growing consciousness, Enjolras began to feel slightly restless. He shifted slightly, the sofa groaning in response as he attempted to move his slightly numb legs. _Damn it._ Feeling Grantaire automatically move to accommodate him, he realised that he wasn’t the only one awake.

Mentally cursing himself, Enjolras let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding in.

‘I can actually _feel_ you overthinking.’ Grantaire whispered into the back of his head, voice still husky from sleep. ‘I’m going to have to ask you to stop.’

‘Impossible.’ Enjolras mumbled a response into his chest, not bothering to lift his head from its current resting place. He could feel the other man’s slight laughter despite not actually being able to hear it. Suppressing a grin, Enjolras sat up; uncurling his hand from Grantaire’s now creased shirt.

‘Wait - no - where are you going?’ Grantaire grumbled as Enjolras got up, running a hand through his dishevelled morning hair as he shifted into a cross-legged position. He rubbed his eyes, raising his arms above his head to stretch out his limbs.

‘I’m going to take a shower, I have to go to class in -’ He tipped his head to look at the clock in the kitchen. ‘About an hour, actually.’

‘You know I could join you if -’ Grantaire grinned, the innocent expression on his completely contrasting his suggestive tone. He laughed appreciatively as Enjolras glowered, blushing. ‘Don’t get your frilly little panties in a twist, I’m joking. Well, unless you’re actually considering - ’

‘Help yourself to coffee or anything else in the kitchen.’ Enjolras shook his head as he turned to the bathroom door, shouting over his shoulder.

Once on the other side of the door, Enjolras felt a little more relaxed. Going about his daily routine was familiar, ordinary. It was a welcome change after the unexpected sleepover he’d had with Grantaire the night before.

For the next fifteen minutes, Enjolras showered and dressed – tried to clear his mind of any remaining embarrassment from his previous actions. By the time he’d finished, his hair was just beginning to dry, curling around the edges of his neck as he rubbed the driest towel over his head. Enjolras walked out of the bathroom, expecting to find Grantaire waiting.

_He wasn’t._

Enjolras looked around confused, before finding a garish yellow post-it note stuck to a newly filled coffee cup. It was still warm and obviously intended for him. _That was_ _thoughtful._ He took a sip before reading the note.

 _‘Roses are red,_  
Violets are blue,  
You drool in your sleep,  
But I still like you.

_Had to dash, sudden urge to paint. I was going to quote some profound poet seeing as that’s our ‘thing’ but alas, it’s too early and I couldn’t think of anything so I decided to write my own. Thanks for the coffee; I made yours too - R’_

Grantaire had a way of surprising him that wasn’t entirely bad at all. Smiling, Enjolras downed the coffee and made preparations for class. Before leaving, he realised the note was still attached to his cup. He thought about throwing it away, but for some unknown reason it didn’t feel right. Without thinking, he automatically placed it in the box where he kept the rest of his correspondence from ‘R’. It felt right, a fitting addition to the growing collection.

The rest of the day went quickly and without event. Enjolras went to class, started any remaining essays or coursework and finally took a well-deserved break to check his phone.

_It’s Friday night. You’re coming out. This is not a request._

-          _Courf_

_How was the date? I hope it went well! REPLY! :D_

-          _Jehan_

_ENJOLRAS! I swear to God if you don’t reply I am coming to find you._

-          _Jehan_

_You seen Taire? He didn’t come back last night. Unless you already knew that? ;)_

-          _Ep_

Enjolras groaned inwardly, considering his replies. He didn’t exactly want his every move broadcasted to the world, and telling either Eponine or Jehan seemed like an unwise decision. Then again, it wasn’t exactly a secret. Enjolras also had a sneaky suspicion that Grantaire would have already informed at least half of the group by now. For one, Eponine seemed to be fishing for more information rather than asking out of concern. He wasn’t exactly angry, he’d just hoped for a little more time to adjust.

Nonetheless, Enjolras replied to each message with simple, short answers that would no doubt cause the receivers to roll their eyes in frustration. That thought made him grin to himself. He wasn’t usually one to mess with his friends, but he needed his privacy. However little he had left.

_Fine._

-          _E_

_It went well._

-          _E_

_Yes, I have seen him._

-          _E_

Seeing as it was already 6pm, Enjolras decided to get ready for Courf’s unplanned night out. He’d surprised even himself by agreeing to go so easily. Then again, he seemed to be doing a hell of a lot of things that were generally out of his comfort zone lately. _Why not add to the list?_

As he dressed in a simple burgundy shirt and black jeans, Enjolras wondered whether Grantaire would be attending tonight. _Of course he would._ He suddenly remembered that the other man would grace any event involving alcohol with his presence. Seeing as he didn’t really drink himself, Enjolras simply couldn’t understand his logic. It wasn’t that Enjolras didn’t drink at all – he just believed that alcohol was better in moderate amounts. It seemed like such a waste of time, money and general pride to get drunk every weekend, or in Grantaire’s case, most nights. Then again, he’d been decidedly sober last night. That was surely something to be grateful for.

_We’re leaving now. Meet at the usual place._

-          _Courf_

_On my way._

-          _E_

It was a fairly short walk to the _Musain_ from Enjolras’ apartment, but he seemed to be the last of the group to arrive. They were seated in their usual spot, which was really three separate tables pushed together – just enough room for the large assembly of friends. Enjolras weaved through the chairs, nodding at the collection of waves that registered his approach. Feuilly and Bahorel were clearly having some kind of argument that Enjolras wanted no part of, and so he slipped into a seat on the opposite end of the table; directly facing Jehan and Courfeyrac. It was _purely_ coincidence that he should choose the position on Grantaire’s right. _At least, that’s what he told himself._

‘Oh my, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty!’ Grantaire flung an arm around his shoulder, lifting his eyebrows suggestively as he continued. ‘How about a kiss for your prince?’

He winced at the obvious reference to last night’s events. Eponine grinned knowingly and Jehan was quite obviously beaming with excitement. Enjolras merely marvelled in distaste at the fact that Grantaire was quite obviously intoxicated. The night hadn’t even started, and he was already on his way to being drunk. Still, when Grantaire kissed his cheek, he almost blushed – unsure of how to react in such a public situation. He noted the arm lying almost possessively across his chair back. Although it was irritating, Enjolras couldn’t help but be _slightly_ flattered.

‘A simple ‘hello’ would have sufficed.’ Enjolras shook his head before absentmindedly running a hand through his hair. He would never admit to enjoying Grantaire’s spontaneous bursts of affection, but _sometimes_ he did.

‘Did you get my note?’

‘I did, it was very – thoughtful?’ Enjolras began to relax, feeling more comfortable by the second. He leaned across into Grantaire’s personal space as he whispered lightly ‘Although it was completely inaccurate. I don’t drool.’  

‘You do, but that’s okay! I love -’ Even in his slightly drunken state Grantaire realised his mistake and swiftly corrected it, but not before blushing. ‘The way you look when you sleep. No, that wasn’t creepy at all. I am completely - ’

‘If I wasn’t all the way over here, I’d hug you both right now. You’re just so cute!’ Jehan laughed; completely unaware of what could have been a particularly awkward moment. Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief, but not before silently panicking about Grantaire’s almost-confession. _He wasn’t ready for that._

Combeferre, who had always been frighteningly good at working out what Enjolras was thinking, took this opportunity to ask for his help getting drinks. Enjolras gratefully agreed, making a mental note to order coffee for Grantaire instead of his usual pint of beer. When they reached the bar, Combeferre started the conversation.

‘You need to talk to him, Enjolras. You can’t expect him to be a mind reader.’

‘I know that.’

‘And I know _you_.’ Combeferre began, pausing to order the drinks as he signalled the bartender. ‘You’d choose death over the prospect of embarrassment. You’re highly stubborn. You have a problem discussing anything to do with actual feelings.  You’re probably the most infuriating and - ’

‘I’m fully aware of those things, okay. I don’t need to be reminded.’ Enjolras picked up one of the two trays holding the group’s drinks. He was grateful to have a friend like Combeferre, one who completely understood. Although at times it seemed like he knew his mind better than Enjolras himself, and that was decidedly infuriating.

‘Yes you do.’ Combeferre smiled, pushing his glassed back onto his nose before picking up the other tray. ‘And that’s exactly why I’m here. As for tonight, don’t be too impatient. He’s not a dog and you can’t train him to do as _you_ please.’

‘I’m not trying to _train_ him; I just wish he’d stay sober from time to time for his own sake.’ Except Enjolras knew Combeferre was right to a certain degree. He couldn’t expect Grantaire to bend if he wasn’t willing to move an inch. It was simply wrong.

‘And there’s nothing wrong with that but just remember he’s a person too, Enjolras.’ Combeferre lowered his voice as they reached their table. ‘You can’t always get exactly what you want.’

 Enjolras nodded, but he was nothing if not an idealist. He truly believed that Grantaire wasn’t broken but simply blemished. And if he cared enough to recognise this, surely he cared enough to take into account his feelings too? He was undoubtedly growing more and more fond of Grantaire with each day. But Quite frankly, Enjolras was as confused as he was mystified by his feelings on both Grantaire as a person and Combeferre’s insights. He vowed to think hard on this matter later, out of the voice-filled madness of the _Musain_.

As the night continued, _Les Amis_ visited several bars before landing in a particularly busy and in Enjolras’ opinion, terribly loud, club.

‘Dance with me!’

‘No.’

‘DANCE WITH ME, APOLLO!’

‘You’re drunk.’

Grantaire was practically dancing around Enjolras’ chair, not-so-subtly thrusting his hips against the metal of the seat. At this point, Enjolras was beyond laugher. He was the only sober member of the group, the only one with any scrap of control over his actions.  Courf and Jehan were dancing rather _intimately_ in one corner of the room, closely followed by Joly, Bosuett and Musichetta. It wasn’t that he begrudged his friends a good time, he certainly didn’t! It just seemed slightly obscene to Enjolras, a man with too much pride and control for his own good.

‘Grantaire, _please_ stop that.’ Enjolras stood up, making his way to the door. He’d had enough.

‘Why, is it _distracting_?’ Grantaire followed, gently pulling on his arm as he weaved through the people. Enjolras shook him off, feeling anger bubble up inside him. The other man was being completely irresponsible, completely inconsiderate. ‘Have another drink, relax a little.’

‘I don’t want another drink, I want to go home.’

‘Come on, stay.’ Grantaire pouted; his face a strange mix of red, blue and green in the dizzying lights of the club. People around them pushed and shoved – only adding to the growing irritation Enjolras felt. ‘You’ve hardly had anything to drink, you’re not even - ’

‘Look, you may be satisfied with being a walking liquor cabinet but I’m not.’

He threw a glance at Combeferre, who had stopped dancing and was watching the conversation unfold. Combeferre shook his head, warning Enjolras of his mistake. _Be patient._ Their previous conversation flooded his mind, but Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to apologise. Unwillingly, Enjolras looked back to Grantaire.

‘Suit yourself.’ Grantaire’s laughter was bitter, cold. He took another long swig of the bottle in his hand. It was a complete contrast to the man he’d willingly and happily spend time with the previous night. Enjolras had never known a single person as maddeningly confusing as Grantaire. He clenched his jaw, attempting to take deep breaths. It made him want to shake him, shout at him until he finally confessed which one was _real_ ; which _Grantaire_ was real.  

But instead he left, turning to the door with a sense of determination. He didn’t want to hurt Grantaire, but he couldn’t be around him tonight. He couldn’t face him in this state of recklessness, this state of complete and utter abandon. Enjolras felt quite literally nauseous as he made his way home.

He’d thought leaving would bring him a sense of relief, but he was wrong. Enjolras thought about texting Combeferre but the mere idea only made him more irate because he knew exactly what he’d say.

 _You shouldn’t have left._ _You should have been patient._

Except he did leave and although he tried his best to be patient, he couldn’t do it. _Maybe, it was for the best. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for dating or silly affairs and by association, love._


	11. Chapter 11

Two days passed by and Enjolras had taken to avoiding both his phone and the internet. The constant and rather tedious messages from his friends were beginning to grate on him in more ways than one.  Of course they meant well, but Enjolras was tired of having to justify himself; tired of being the villain. Yes, he felt slightly guilty about talking to Grantaire in such a harsh manner but nonetheless, everything he said had been true. _How could he be expected to apologise for the truth?_   Quite frankly, Enjolras didn’t believe in meaningless words.

He needed a break, some space to really think. It wasn’t uncommon for him to project inwards. In times of stress he tended to fold into himself instead of seeking the help and comfort of those around him. Enjolras thought it easier that way, his own mind a sanctuary from the real world. Although it wasn’t exactly quiet, it was something entirely _him_.

_Have you spoken to R?_

Combeferre’s gentle questioning was well-natured, but he didn’t feel like answering.

_Where are you?_

Jehan merely wanted to know if he was okay, but Enjolras couldn’t find the words to express exactly how he felt or even what he was doing. 

_What are you doing? Speak to him!_

It seemed that the exasperation conveyed in Courfeyrac’s many messages was widely felt.

_Enjolras, please answer._

Combeferre was persistent; he had to give him that.

_You’re an asshole, you know that?_

He was under no illusions; Enjolras knew he was being harsh, ridiculous even. His reaction was completely illogical and Eponine was nothing if not straight to the point. The problem was, he’d heard from everyone _but_ Grantaire. The one person he actually needed to talk to was avoiding him; or maybe Enjolras was doing the avoiding? It really wasn’t clear anymore. _Did it even matter?_

A knock at his door forced him out of his thoughts. Getting up from the sofa, he made his way across the room to answer the call. He really shouldn’t have bothered as the door was flung open, narrowly missing his face.

‘This is an intervention!’ Courfeyrac practically paraded into his apartment with Combeferre, Jehan and Grantaire, dragged by Eponine close behind.  His eyes lingered on Grantaire for a second, he looked _tired_.

‘What is even - ’

‘No, this is my time to talk. You listen.’ Courfeyrac pushed him down onto the sofa, back into his previous seat. Enjolras frowned at the other man’s arrogance. This was _his_ home. Completely taken aback by the gall of his friends, he could do nothing other than listen. ‘This has gone on long enough and you’re both completely ridiculous. We’re not leaving here until you two sort things out because the tension is _killing_ us.’

‘I really don’t see how this has anything at all to do with you. Quite frankly, you’re all - ’

‘Enjolras, please?’ Jehan’s question interceded his speech; his concerned expression highlighting the blatant care that had gone into this so called ‘intervention’.  Although the intrusion was irritating, his friends had clearly been worried. Enjolras sighed as he ran a hand through his already tousled hair. _He did need to speak with Grantaire._

‘Okay.’ He didn’t miss the surprise in Combeferre’s eyes. He’d obviously been expecting more of a fight.  The smile on his face was that of a proud parent; Enjolras almost rolled his eyes in frustration but thought better of it. Sparing a glance at Grantaire, he could see nothing but a blank expression. It was disconcerting; he was giving nothing away. The discomfort in his stomach was something entirely new, something reminiscent of guilt. Maybe he had been wrong to publically call Grantaire out on his drinking. He was starting to believe that the truth, although pure, might not always be easy to hear. ‘Did you agree to this?’

‘No, I’m just here for the free food. Jehan bakes a mean cupcake.’ Grantaire played with humour, attempting to bring a small piece of light into their current situation. Enjolras’ face twitched as he attempted to cover his smile with more annoyance.

‘You two – in the bedroom! We’re not letting you out until you’ve spoken, resolved your differences and made amends in a satisfactory fashion.’ Jehan pulled Enjolras out of his seat, Eponine doing the same with Grantaire. They were jostled into the room before a chair was placed under the door handle, making it impossible for them to leave.

‘This is a fire hazard waiting to happen.’ Enjolras mumbled under his breath before turning to face his fellow captive.

Grantaire was leaning against the wall, taking in Enjolras’ obvious discomfort with a grin.

‘How fitting - Sleeping Beauty trapped in his castle.’ He pushed off the wall, moving to sit on Enjolras’ bed. The cross-legged stance reminded him of the last time Grantaire had been in his apartment. ‘Take a seat; we’re probably going to be in here for quite some time.’

Enjolras nodded in agreement, although he couldn’t quite understand why he’d needed permission to sit on his own bed. It seemed his friends had taken over his space in more ways than one. He sat opposite Grantaire, at the head of the bed.

A minute of silence followed, neither man wanting to be the first to speak. Enjolras’ eyes took in the other man, noting the vibrant paint stains on his dishevelled clothing, a strange contrast to the deep green of his plaid shirt. His arms were folded, a lazy grin beginning to form at the edges of his mouth. Enjolras frowned; this was no time for humour.

‘I feel like a zoo animal, for God’s sake say _something_.’ Grantaire used his hands to talk, unfolding them in the process.

‘I was under the impression that there are in fact two people in this room, why should I have to -’ Biting back his irritation, Enjolras decided that rather than waste him time arguing, he should use it to attempt at reconciliation. ‘Fine, voicing my opinion in public wasn't the best way to go aboubt -’

‘That didn’t sound like an apology.’

‘Because it wasn’t.’ Enjolras tipped his head forward, looking Grantaire directly in the eyes for the first time. ‘I’m not going to lie to you and say that I didn’t mean it because I did. I can’t pretend to approve of your _lifestyle_. It’s reckless and quite frankly, selfish.’

‘Well, thank you for that searingly profound look into my life.’ His satirical laughter was slightly hostile, despite the casual tone in his voice. ‘If I’m really _that_ much of an embarrassment to you, I think - ’

‘Stop putting words in my mouth, Grantaire.’ Enjolras was no longer able to contain his growing rage, he was being provoked. ‘If you’d _kindly_ stop being a child long enough to actually listen, then maybe - ’

‘Maybe I don’t care what you think, is that what you want to hear?’

'Yes of couse, that's exactly what I wanted to hear! Maybe we should both just -' 

'Sarcasm, how fitting! I was beggining to worry about your obvious humour-deficiany, and I -' 

‘When are you ever going to say something real? Stop wasting my time and yours, if you’re not going to listen, then leave.’ Enjolras motioned towards the door before realised it was out of action. He scowled, standing up and crossing his arms, too restless to sit any longer.

‘It’s nice to know what a high opinion you have of me. ‘ _Professional Waste of_ Time’, maybe I should think about a career change from ‘ _Reckless Drunk’_ – would that make your majesty happy?’ Grantaire spat out his words, no longer bothering to hide his hurt. Enjolras couldn’t bring himself to feel any remorse, not even as he observed the tears the other man was clearly holding back.

‘No, it wouldn’t. Unlike you, I don’t have to find my happiness in other people.’ Grantaire winced, taking a deep breath as Enjolras continued his speech. ‘Perhaps if you took control of your life instead of looking for answers in bottle after bottle, then maybe _you_ would be happy.’

‘I’d be sober, not happy.’ He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Grantaire suddenly looked tired, worn down by the harsh truths provided by Enjolras. Although it was hard to see him hurting, perhaps it was necessary. ‘There’s a difference, Enjolras. And maybe if you’d take the stick out of your ass for five seconds and actually tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours - ’

‘No. You don’t get to turn this around on me.’

‘I wasn’t, I was saying something _real_. Isn’t that what _you_ wanted?’ Grantaire shook his head, taking in Enjolras before resuming. ‘Or am I the only one permitted to have any faults?’

‘That’s not what I said, for God’s sake Grantaire I - ’

‘Then suck it up and tell me what the hell is going on in your head, Enjolras.’ Grantaire got up, crossing the room to face the other man. ‘I’ve been patient, but if we’re having this little _honesty hour_ , then I can’t be the only one to take part.’

'This is riduculous, we're not discussing _my_ problems.' 

'Enjolras.' Grantaire spoke his name as a plead. Enjolras didn't want to put himself out there like _that_ , it wasn't something he was comfortable with. 

‘Fine. I’m not going to apologise for something I believe to be true. I can’t pretend that I’m okay with you drowning yourself in alcohol seven days a week. I shouldn’t have to. I was; however, wrong to voice my concerns in that particular manner.’ Enjolras took a deep breath, gritting his teeth before he could stop himself. It was clear the he needed to open up, bit _needing_ and _wanting_ were two very different concepts. ‘Yes, I regret my actions but you have to realise that I’m completely new to all of _this_. Your wellbeing is important to me and when you act the way you do, it makes me insanely angry which is perhaps surprising as -’

Grantaire held up a hand, an almost invisible smile on his lips, he was signalling for Enjolras to stop. He felt relieved, a sense of calm washing over him to erase any remaining rage. This was new, but not entirely awful. It would definitely take some getting used to. Enjolras took a seat on the bed once again, gesturing for Grantaire to do the same.

 ‘If we’re being honest, I’m glad you didn’t apologise. I would have known you didn’t mean it. ’ Grantaire broke the eye contact, appearing to observe his surroundings nonchalantly. ‘However, is it really any of your business as to how I spend my time? And seven days a week is a _bit_ of an exaggeration, don’t you think?’

He didn’t answer either of the questions, but instead put forward his own.

‘I’m not actively looking for another argument, but do _you_ think you have a problem?’ Clearly, drinking provided Grantaire with some kind of relief but he was finding it truly hard to understand. Yes, it made him angry but surely if he knew _why,_ he just might be able to comprehend it.

‘I’m fine, Enjolras. I like a drink every now and then, what’s wrong with that?’

‘You’re forgetting that I know exactly what happened after you – ‘R’ – failed to turn up to the sit-in at the library.’ Grantaire hadn’t wanted to reveal himself back then, and he’d made himself suffer. He’d drunk until he literally couldn’t stand. Quite frankly, he’d been lucky that Combeferre was the one to find him. _Very lucky._

‘That was a mistake.’ Grantaire flushed, clearly embarrassed about his actions. Enjolras was comforted by the sense of regret in his speech. ‘I’m not perfect, I wanted to forget. You know what it’s like to never stop _thinking,_ it’s exhausting – I wasn’t looking to hurt myself. I just needed some quiet up here.’

Grantaire gestured to his head, tapping one finger against his skull before folding his arms once again.

‘On reflection, that wasn’t the best way to go about it. I know that. I’m working on it, okay? Is that good enough for you or did you expect full-blown sobriety? Because that’s not - ’

Enjolras almost smiled, shaking his head.

‘That’s great.’ He paused, the smile faltering. He wanted to tell Grantaire that it was okay for him to come to him with this type of problem; he understood the need, the constant internal struggle that was required to stop thinking more than most. _He might even be able to help._ ‘If you ever feel that way again, tell me.’

‘Why? It’s my problem.’ Grantaire shrugged, shifting so that he was sat against the headboard, next to Enjolras.

‘I was personally under the impression that we’re together and by extension, your problems also become mine.’ Enjolras was completely out of his element in the current situation; still he put aside the discomfort. He fought the urge to hide his face. 'Unless that isn't how these things work? As you know I'm not exactly versed in the ways of -'

‘Wait, we’re together?’ Grantaire smiled, before altering his question to a statement. The complete and utter disbelief in his voice was evident. ‘We’re together. Your problems are mine, and my problems are yours. I like it. I could get used that that.’

‘I’m glad?’ Enjolras shook his head, taking in the enigma that was Grantaire. Was the other man so filled with self-loathing that he hadn’t recognised the underlying truth of their relationship? It seemed unlikely, and yet he did have to wonder. ‘But I am completely serious. Contrary to popular belief, I do want to help. If you tell me, I’ll understand. ’

‘Same goes for you. I know you well enough to know that you’re incredibly self-reliant when it comes to your own problems but you are allowed to be not okay, you know?’ Grantaire nudged his shoulder against Enjolras’ own. 

Enjolras didn’t say anything, but he hoped for Grantaire to take his silence to be one of agreement. He was unsure of what to say, but there was certainly something freeing about speaking honestly and without bounds. Right now, Grantaire almost felt like an extension of himself. He was beginning to see the man behind the quotations, the poems and the humour. Behind every cynic was an idealist let down by the world, Enjolras was only now realising how true that was. 

Grantaire chuckled and lightly grasped at Enjolras’ hand, lacing their fingers together on his own knee. Any previous tension seemed to disappear, a vague sense of tranquillity stirring to take its place. Enjolras was glad; he wanted to put their disagreements behind them. It seemed Grantaire was in agreement.

‘If we’re together does that mean I get to do _this_ whenever I see fit?’ His tone was light, teasing.

‘Within reason.’ Enjolras tipped his head toward Grantaire, raising his eyebrows in amusement. Despite his words, he squeezed the other man’s hand reassuringly, or so he hoped. Grantaire's ink-stained thumb was lightly rubbing circles into the back of his hand; Enjolras merely rasied an eyebrow in response.

‘Okay, does it mean I get to do _this_?’ Grantaire laid his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, playfully batting his eyelashes as he laughed. Enjolras was completely unused to physical affection, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He found himself enjoying the closeness that came with their relationship. Grantaire had an amusing way of introducing him to new ideas and for that he was grateful.

‘I think could stretch to that.’ He bit back a smile, straining to keep his face serious as Grantaire rolled his eyes, lifting his head from its resting place.

‘Oh, please don’t strain yourself. I’d hate to be responsible for breaking the _great_ Enjolras, man of marble.’  Grantaire raised his eyebrows, a silent challenge, one that even Enjolras could recognise. He shook his head in response; he’d always hated the notion that Grantaire believed him to be anything other than a person.

‘I'm a human being, Grantaire.’

‘Please, you are no _typical_ human being.’ Enjolras sighed in response; Grantaire was clearly deluded. 

He was about to initiate a kiss when he heard a muffled but nonetheless recognisable squeak from outside. He groaned, _it seemed Jehan was incredibly invested in their relationship._ He pressedsingle finger to his lips, motioning for Grantaire to remain quiet. Enjolras untangled himself and made his way across the room, stopping when face was inches from the door. In a haughty and disapproving tone, he spoke.

‘Jehan, you do realise this was supposed to be a _private_ conversation?’

There was a loud thump from outside the door, as if the listener had fallen back in surprise. The chorus of laughter outside highlighted the fact that _everyone_ had quite obviously been eavesdropping. Enjolras pressed his hand to his temples.

‘There’s something to be said about a group of people who know nothing of the importance of discretion. I have to wonder whether - ’

‘You’re lectures, although _highly_ fascinating, are redundant.’ Grantaire’s voice came from directly behind him; Enjolras could feel his breath on his neck. He whipped around to face the other man, his nose only milometers away from Grantaire’s chin as he backed into the door.

‘Well maybe if I say it enough, _somebody_ will listen.’ He raised his head defiantly, meeting the sceptic directly in the eyes. ‘Never underestimate - ’

Grantaire closed the distance, bracing his hand on the door as he leaned in. Enjolras’ hand was fixed on his chest, gripping at his shirt, giving him the ability to push the other man away if he so wished. Instead, he pulled him in closer. Grantaire happily obliged, twisting his free hand in an abundant halo of golden curls. Enjolras absentmindedly noted that he seemed to like touching his hair, or creating disarray as Enjolras liked to think of it. Releasing Grantaire’s shirt, he slipped his arm around his back, automatically disliking any barrier keeping them apart.

As they separated, Grantaire lightly rested his head against the door in the space between Enjolras’ shoulder and neck.

‘Is there _anything_ you’re not good at?’ His voice came out as a murmur, husky and warm.

‘I’m an awful cook, an even worse dancer, I can’t draw, paint or do anything remotely artistic and I also have this problem with doors – even if they specifically say to pull, I’ll subconsciously do the opposite.’

‘Good to know.’ Grantaire grinned as Enjolras shrugged, almost as if to say ‘ _you asked.’_

A forceful knock on the door made both men jump, inciting a frown upon Enjolras’ face whilst Grantaire merely laughed.

‘Who’s there?’ Grataire called out, drawing the ‘there’ out into two separate syllables and raising his voice accordingly.

‘Concerned friends who want to open the door but are also aware of the two men leaning against it?’ Jehan’s words came out rushed together, more a question than a statement. From outside, Enjolras could hear Courfeyrac speculating that it would have made a better joke if Jehan had simply opened the door and let them fall.

‘You should really work on that punch-line.’ Grantaire pushed off the door, allowing Enjolras to step aside. As Jehan removed the chair and allowed the captives freedom, he hugged them both, congratulating them as they passed. He urged them both into a seat before placing a mug of hot chocolate in their hands, offering various baked goods before slipping into his own seat next to Eponine.

Enjolras always liked having his friends in his place; it seemed to make the very walls brighter and warmer. He noted Combeferre’s subtle smile in his direction as Enjolras sat down next to Grantaire, noticing the way the other man seemed to lean against his shoulder. _Although to be honest, that could easily be due to the lack of space._

‘Okay, I’m going to tell you now so you can keep your schedule open – Wednesday night is now double date night.’ Jehan pointedly looked at Enjolras, almost daring him to scoff or laugh at this highly _serious_ proposition.

‘We’re going bowling, just a heads up.’ Courf interjected, playing with Jehan’s hair absentmindedly.

‘Oh God, please don’t make me play against Enjolras. He takes anything competitive to a _whole_ new level.’ Grantaire laughed beside him, trying not to spill his drink as he did so.

 ‘Date night, really? Can’t we just stay in and -’ Enjolras was interrupted by a chorus of groans and outraged no’s. He shrugged as Grantaire poked his chest, feigning a pout. ‘Fine, we’ll go.’

‘A wise decision.’ Combeferre replied, nodding his head with a grin. ‘It was a lost cause, Enjolras. You have to learn to pick your battles.’

‘I don’t know what you’re so smug about, I’m not missing out on bowling just because I’m single – looks like we’re going on a date, boy genius!’ Eponine called out from her seat, it wasn’t a question but a statement. Combeferre’s eyes widened, but he didn’t argue. On his part, Enjolras was beginning to see just what he meant about choosing his battles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I did promise a happier chapter! Think of it as a birthday cake iced with the words 'I'm sorry for the angst'.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters, exam time is nearing ever closer I’m afraid! Regardless, thank you to everyone continuing to read this despite the wait. I haven’t fully read through this so I apologise for any mistakes, I'll be editing this chapter at some point so let me know if you spot anything drastic!
> 
> EDIT: I'M AN IDIOT! I somehow neglected to copy and paste the last 350 words of this chapter into the box therefore anyone who read this yesterday may have noticed the completely random ending. I'm so sorry about my inability to use technology. I am a fool.

Enjolras sat with one hand supporting his face, his arm balanced on his own knee. He could almost feel the sarcastic grin of utter delight on Grantaire’s face; he didn’t have to see it. It bore into his slouched back, causing him to glower in response. They were currently no more than thirty minutes into ‘ _date night’_ and he already felt like throwing _himself_ down the bowling alley as opposed to the ball. He’d foolishly allowed himself to believe that Jehan would forget about tonight but there was one relatively large problem - _Jehan never forgets_.

Straightening his back, Enjolras folded his arms at his chest as he watched Jehan and Courf take their shared turn. They were sickeningly cute; Jehan was currently teaching Courf how to aim, although Enjolras highly doubted the latter wasn’t perfectly capable. Despite this, they both looked insanely happy and Enjolras suppressed an amused smile as they bowled yet another gutter ball.

On arrival, Courfeyrac had announced the ‘ _buddy system’_ or so he liked to call it. They were each playing with their own respective partners on a team; the winners would receive free drinks from the other players for the rest of the night and the all-important bragging rights, of course.

Eponine cheered as Combeferre hit yet _another_ strike, his third to be exact. It was really quite ridiculous how good he was, although Enjolras supposed it had something to do with Combeferre’s gift with numbers. Well, that and his bowling team in high school. Then again, there was probably great thought behind each move, knowing his friend.

_Damn him._

‘Hey Enj, you’re going to be so broke by the end of tonight! I’ll be ordering doubles for myself and boy wonder, here.’ Eponine put an arm around Combeferre as he sat down; he blushed but looked decidedly okay with the current circumstances. Enjolras raised an eyebrow in his direction; earning a subtle shrug in return.

‘I wouldn’t be so certain.’

‘Oh really, tell that to our perfect score.’ Eponine high-fived Combeferre as he spoke.

Grantaire reached over from his seat next to Enjolras, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he not-so-quietly whispered in his ear. His breath ticked the space between Enjolras’ neck and hair.

‘Stop pouting, it’s just a game.’

‘Games are made to be won.’  

‘And here’s me foolishly thinking that games were made to be _played_.’ Grantaire lifted the arm on his shoulder to ruffle Enjolras’ hair as he spoke. ‘You really do learn something new every day.’

‘Stop flirting and take your damn turn.’ Courf called over from his seat; arms wrapped around Jehan who was carefully perched on his lap. Grantaire held up one finger in response, placing a small kiss on Enjolras’ cheek as he did so. Jehan let out an ‘ _aaaaaw, young love’_ as he leaned back into Courf.

Still blushing, Enjolras stood to take the first turn. He grasped an emerald-green ball with the three fingers required, taking his place in front of the lane. Raising the ball in a position to aim, Enjolras released. He managed to hit only five of the twelve pins; _not bad but not great either_. If glaring at the pins could make them fall, Enjolras would certainly have a strike by now.  He almost jumped as two not-so-mysterious arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

‘Would you like me to take a shot, captain?’ Grantaire rested his chin on Enjolras’ shoulder, the small difference in height working to his advantage. Enjolras thought about leaning into the warmth, but decided against it as he took his seat.

‘Go ahead.’

He merely watched as Grantaire knocked down the remaining seven pins, giving their collective a spare. Enjolras smiled sarcastically in Eponine and Combeferre’s direction as Grantaire bowed, low and dramatic with a flourish of the hand.

‘You’re surprisingly good at this.’ Enjolras interjected as Grantaire sat down once again. He momentarily paused, examining the red knitted cap hastily positioned on Grantaire’s head; he seemed to wear it _everywhere_.  It would be irritating if it didn’t suit him so nicely. It wasn’t exactly the season to wear hats, but then again Enjolras had never been an expert on fashion. _Who was he to tell Grantaire what to wear?_ Besides, he’d grown strangely fond of that cap. It was almost like an extension of the man himself.

Realising he was staring, Enjolras broke the eye contact. He placed an arm over the back of Grantaire’s chair, ignoring the raised eyebrows and slight grin of Combeferre as he did so. _He’d always been too observant for his own good._ Enjolras rolled his eyes in response before realising that their silent conversations were getting a little out-of-hand. They knew each other so well, that they didn’t have to speak. Quite frankly, Enjolras wasn’t sure if he should find this strange or amusing.

Grantaire leaned against him, poking his side to get his attention.

‘Making eyes at ‘Ferre again, I see.’ He grinned before turning his attention to the friend in question, sending a good-natured call in his direction. ‘Are you signalling the start of a dance-mob or just flirting because either way I -’

Combeferre held his hands up, smiling as he replied.

‘Oh he’s all yours, believe me.’

‘So dance mob? Well, they do say it’s always the quiet ones. Never really had Enj pegged as the foot-loose type, he _would_ however, look simply _delectable_ in spandex.’

‘Debatable.’ Combeferre replied under his breath as Jehan and Courf giggled into their drinks; no doubt picturing their fearless leader in such attire. Eponine nodded in agreement as she took her turn; shoulders visibly shaking as she laughed from behind.

‘Don’t worry Enj, I think you could pull it off. Don’t you listen to the haters.’ Courf toasted in his direction as he spoke, winking before he took a long sip. He cleared his throat before speaking in a formal, drawn out tone. ‘To quote a true lyrical genius; _I like big butts and I cannot lie_ , _you other brothers can’t deny -’_

He burst out in laughter, not making it any further into his dramatic reading. Everyone else followed suit, tears of laughter falling down Eponine’s face as she left to get another drink from the bar. Enjolras folded his arms in protest, not enjoying or contributing the conversation about the simply ridiculous notion.

‘Does anyone have a pen?’ Jehan asked, straight faced in his inquiry. ‘I’m suddenly inspired to write my next great masterpiece; I call it ‘Ode to a Peach: a story of love, loss and perkiness’ in honour of -’

‘That’s quite enough.’ Enjolras placed a hand over his face, hiding the cherry-tinted blush of his cheeks as he glowered through his fingers. Grantaire applauded, throwing his head back unashamedly as he laughed.

‘I’ll hold you to that, my friend.’ Grantaire wiped his eyes on his shirt, using the outer layer of grey-plaid to stop the tiny beads of water falling from his eyes. Enjolras shook his head as he took in the amusement of his friends.

_Clearly, they were all children._

_His assets really weren’t that fascinating._

The rest of the night went fairly quickly, Enjolras found himself enjoying the company of his friends once again as they played no more than three games of bowling. The first victory had unsurprisingly gone to Eponine and Combeferre; causing Enjolras to announce the competition to be ‘best of three’. The other’s disputed the sudden rule change, but played along nonetheless. They were more than happy to prolong the date, and decidedly surprised that Enjolras wished to remain here for any longer than he physically had to.

Although he’d never admit it, Enjolras was having a truly good time. He loved his friends with a fierce sense of loyalty and valued their companionship more than he’d ever tell. Despite this, anything competitive seemed to bring out his aggressive tendencies no matter what he was playing or who he was playing against. He failed to suppress his smug grin as Grantaire secured their win in the second game. It didn’t even falter as the other man insisted on a ‘ _victory hug’_ , although Enjolras highly doubted it was customary.

As they moved onto the third and final game, Enjolras became even more inconsolable as Eponine and Courfeyrac insisted on testing his patience.

‘If it matters that much to you, we will _let_ you win!’

 ‘Grantaire and I are more than capable of winning fair and square. Although, offering to throw the game does lead me to doubt your honesty in the first match. If you were cheating then -’

‘How the hell do you ‘ _cheat_ ’ in bowling? You throw the ball and hope it hits the damn pins. How is it _my_ fault if _you_ can’t bloody roll the ball in the right direction?’ Eponine threw her hands in the air; exasperated as Enjolras continued with his speech.

‘I’m perfectly capable of throwing a ball; perhaps if _I’d_ had more practice I’d be -’

‘Let me get this straight, you want more practise playing around with _balls_?’ Courfeyrac’s voice was laced with innuendo and it was clear to everyone _except_ Enjolras, who continued to explain his point with great force. He failed to notice the sniggers behind him as the others tried to suppress their laughter.

‘Well I’m only saying that perhaps Combeferre is so good because he’s had more time to perfect his technique.’

‘Oh I’m sure he has, and you would know this _because_?’

‘That’s a ridiculous question; I’ve known him all my life.’ Enjolras raised his eyebrow, unfazed by Eponine’s insistent questioning. Although why she’d want to know the answers to any of these queries, he didn’t know. ‘When we were in high school, he was actually -’

‘Enjolras, _please_.’ Combeferre held his head in his hands, balancing his elbows on his knees in his seat. Glancing around the group, Enjolras took in their expressions of amusement. It clicked almost immediately; the look on Grantaire’s face selling the _details_ he’d previously missed. He sighed in frustration, throwing his hands in the air as he took his seat.

‘ _Children._ ’ He mumbled under his breath, sipping the slightly cooled coffee in his mug.

 His exasperation didn’t last for long, and soon they’d lost again to Combeferre and Eponine. Even Enjolras couldn’t doubt their victory this time; he even shook Eponine’s hand as she celebrated. Combeferre seemed more than happy when Epoinine threw herself at him, her arms around his neck as she exclaimed of his ‘ _freaky boy-genius super powers’_. Enjolras rolled his eyes and unwillingly asked what they wanted to drink, seeing as that _had_ been the bargain. True to her word, Eponine ordered a double brandy for both herself and Combeferre; who was too busy pushing up his glasses from the violent hug to answer.

As he went to the bar, Grantaire followed to help him carry drinks. _It was a thoughtful gesture, Enjolras noted._ He ordered the required drinks for Eponine and Combeferre as well as drinks for everyone else in their party; it seemed inconsiderate to only buy for the victors.

‘You’re enjoying yourself, I knew you would.’

‘Enjoying is a strong word.’ Enjolras subtly smirked as he replied. ‘But I s _uppose_ as far as dates go, this one hasn’t been so bad. Not that I have much to compare it to, but -’

‘Wait, so this is your first _date-date_?’ Grantaire shook his head, leaning against the bar as he stared in awe. Enjolras lifted an eyebrow in response. ‘Seriously?’

‘Repeating the word ‘ _date_ ’ doesn’t make it any clearer.’ Brow furrowed, Enjolras searched out the bartender serving them; their order seemed to be taking a relatively large time to fill. ‘But if you consider our previous correspondence a ‘ _date-date’_ then no?’

‘Wait, your first actual date was with _me_? Ah man, I’m sorry.’ He tipped his head back in thought, shrugging his shoulders as he made his speech. ‘Coffee in the _Musain_ wasn’t exactly special, if I’d have known I’d have, I don’t know serenaded you across the table – something _awesome_ like that.’

Enjolras stared at the other man incredulously, mumbling under his breath ‘ _because that would have gone so well.’_

Grantaire chuckled under his breath, nodding in agreement.  His face turned serious moments after as he pulled out a small white piece of paper from a back-pocket of his dark and worn jeans. Enjolras silently questioned him, tilting his head slightly in inquiry.

‘I was going to wait to give you this, or inconspicuously leave it in your apartment or on your desk but – here.’ He rubbed his neck self-consciously as he passed the small and folded square to Enjolras. ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to read it now but I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. It’s kind of what we do so I thought, why not? And I’m going to stop talking now so you can actually read it. I mean, it’s pretty self-explanatory.’

_Oh._

He blushed as he opened the poem, feeling slightly strange. This was the first time he’d had the task of reading one of Grantaire’s notes with him watching. It felt almost intrusive; he had to control any facial expressions, any reactions to the text. Then again, Grantaire knew exactly what was included; surely he’d have thought about this before giving it to him to read? He momentarily thought about saving it for later, but seeing the expectant look from Grantaire drove that particular thought out of his mind immediately. Mentally reprimanding himself, Enjolras began to read.

_‘Eating fire_   
_Is your ambition:_   
_To swallow the flame down_   
_Take it into your mouth_   
_And shoot it forth, a short or an incandescent_   
_Tongue, a word_   
_Exploding from you in gold, crimson_   
_Unrolling a brilliant scroll_

_To be lit up from within  
Vein by vein _

_To be the sun’_

Enjolras smiled as he finished reading the poem, looking up at Grantaire before reading the note attached.

_‘Sound like anyone you know? Hint: it’s you – R’_

He immediately read it over again, making a mental note to _not_ show Jehan. _He’d be inconsolable, especially seeing as it was Margaret Atwood._ By now Enjolras had accepted the fact that Grantaire was a contradiction in his own right; one minute he was sarcastic, dramatic and downright infuriatingly stubborn, the next he was _this_ person.  Both sincerity and satire ran deep within his veins, and Enjolras had begun to think that this wasn’t a bad thing at all. Although cynical at heart, Grantaire no doubt held a great capacity for belief, although in what, Enjolras wasn’t particularly sure.  

Despite the many thoughts running though his head, it seemed almost ironic that Enjolras had no idea how to respond. If this were a different circumstance, he’d have something prepared; or something so natural that it almost came from inside of himself without prompt. This was different, this wasn’t a cause and the audience didn’t need persuading. _What did the audience – Grantaire – need?_

_Reassurance?_

_Heartfelt sentiments? Not that he was actually capable of those, he thought._

Instead he opted for something simple, perhaps underused in their relationship as of yet. Regardless of its obvious straightforwardness, it felt right.

‘Thank you.’

‘Not a problem, I assume you approve of my choice?’ He nodded as he observed the other man’s stance as they continued to wait for the drinks that should have rightly arrived five minutes ago. Enjolras would usually be annoyed, restless by now but tonight it seemed perfectly okay.

Grantaire’s casual posture was no-doubt a labour of love – something he strived to obtain regardless of the circumstance or his nerves. Wishing to put him at ease, Enjolras neatly folded the note and the poem, placing it into the deepest pocket of his black jeans. On completing this task he hesitated before quickly embracing the man in question, hoping that the gesture would be more than enough reassurance. He felt Grantaire smile against him. Taking this as a good sign, Enjolras began to relax - _or as much as he ever could_. At first, he'd felt unquestionably awkward but the evident happiness of the receiver helped to put him at ease. He absentmindedly noted that the other man no longer held the scent of something vaguely alcoholic; perhaps he really was trying. Tonight he'd been decidedly sober; he'd only had one alcoholic beverage since they'd arrived. Enjolras smiled, almost to himself, as he picked up the subtle scent of coffee mixed with something completely unique to Grantaire. It vaguely reminded him of mint and perhaps something a little more earthy and floral. He doubted he'd ever find a single adjective to quite describe it. As they parted,  Grantaire’s hand remained on his back; a small reminder of their relationship.

 The bartender cleared his throat as he brought the drinks, causing Grantaire to smirk and wink, much to the embarrassment of the young man serving. As they walked away with their purchases, Enjolras thought to himself that perhaps the whole concept of ‘ _dating_ ’, while highly overvalued in today’s society, might not be too unbearable after all.

Once in a while, he would allow himself the small pleasure of treating Grantaire to a night out. It seemed only fitting for a man who constantly thought of other’s needs before his own to have someone to occasionally do the same for him. 


End file.
